


a heartbeat drives you mad

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Foreign Languages, Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Physical Abuse, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Steve and Tony don't get together until sophomore year, Steve is also kind of a slut, Substance Abuse, Tony Has Issues, Tony has legit medical issues, Tony's kind of a slut, a lot of yoga, canon minor character death, mentions of past self abuse, probably too many party scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 49
Words: 264,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They move like magnets, pushing and pulling as they tear each other apart, discovering and exploring until they are a natural disaster on the brink of destruction, and then, like a calm before a storm, they begin to understand, and as they discover themselves, they learn how to be catastrophic together.</p><p>Or, Steve and Tony are absolutely wretched at being secret boyfriends, so they learn how to be friends, and, somehow, they trip into love, stumbling through Steve coming to terms with being gay, Tony trying to hide his twisted life, and too much parties, sex, and yoga that any sane person would fall apart, and yet, here they are, magnets drawn together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for one of my best friends, Erin. She has rolled on the ground with me, danced with me, laughed with me, cried with me, and screamed with me. She has been there for every word of this story, and she is the only reason it’s still going strong. She is the reason many of my fics get written, but this is the one I’ll always think about when I think of her. Thank you, my little queen.
> 
> Notes —
> 
> i. This is Erin’s fault. From here on out, everything Marvel-related is Erin’s fault. She keeps writing teen!Tony, and then we keep talking about what he must have been like when he was younger, and somehow, that’s been morphing into he and Steve rooming in college, and whoops. Damn it, Erin. Also, this is gonna be a long haul. I will be beginning with their first meeting freshman year and ending either with their graduation senior year or a little bit afterward. But Mary, when are they going to get together, you ask. I will tell you only this: sophomore year. I’m not skipping around the first year—there will be plenty there, but they will not be dating until their second year. Also, while we’re here, let me just present you with the picture that started it all: [here](http://24.media.tumblr.com/4349964ee39f9f6f7bfdf64ee1647ac8/tumblr_mtqoclYLMp1rigzfwo1_500.jpg). I don’t know why this inspired everything, but it did. I’m not certain who this is by, but thank you so much, if you see this, for drawing that because good grief, I’ve embarked on quite a journey because of it.
> 
> ii. Let’s briefly talk about appearances. I have been trying so hard to figure out what Tony looked like, and then I was looking through some of my favorite artists, and I stumbled upon the hello-shellhead’s rockstar au, _which I love_ , and this. This is what Tony looks like: [one](http://24.media.tumblr.com/ee5ce6df9b62e32725499581ba579fb0/tumblr_n1iq38JqcT1ryow7jo1_500.png) and [two](http://24.media.tumblr.com/a43b4c926bb548b48903cc6c6518f7bf/tumblr_mzij75D67R1ryow7jo1_500.png). For Steve, I picture him more like Chris than Steve, though still Steve, so he’s still got the adorable blonde hair, and he doesn’t have a beard, but he acts like Chris a lot. I associate a lot of the characters with their respective actors/actresses, and so Bucky looks like Sebastian, specifically during the press for Winter Soldier, Betty looks like Liv in Incredible Hulk, and Bruce looks like Mark, though not necessarily in The Avengers, but in The Kids are All Right. Maria, I had a hard time figuring out, but then, by chance, Olivia Wilde popped up on my dash on Tumblr, and so I’ve been thinking about [this](https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lwl8r4eC5B1qmp03mo1_500.png) a lot. It may seem a little ridiculous figuring out even Maria, but she’s pretty important in this.
> 
> iii. I am not a medical professional, nor will I ever claim to be. I’ve done a fair amount of research on the real medical issues Tony has in this—congenital heart defect, which is a trigger for his environmental asthma when he doesn’t take his medication, and eventually, atrial fibrillation—as well as his sometimes real and sometimes abused mental issues—depression, ADD, bipolar, there’s probably a psychosis in there somewhere—but I do not claim to actually know anything about these, and I did my best working with them.
> 
> iv. There are a few discrepancies that I should note. One, I am using my current university as a backdrop for this, and so, I may refer to their university as UMF, but I’m not elaborating on that just because I didn’t want to think up a school, so I stuck with the initials for mine. Two, Jaho, the coffee shop Steve and Bucky frequent, has just about the most delicious tea in the world, and I’m not sure if there are any outside of Salem, but it’s fantastic. Three, I’ve made Howard and Maria a little younger because I felt like it. The time, basically, is that Maria met Howard when she was 22, when Howard was 37; they married two years later, and Maria had Tony three years after that, when she was 27. When this story starts, Maria is 47 and Howard is 62.

_I’m not ready for the weight of us._

 

Steve thanks the CA—community assistant—that shows him to his room before he unlocks and opens the door, carefully stepping inside.  His roommate—another freshman named Anthony Stark—is here, but not, his things still unpacked but spread out on the right side of the room.

 

“Is your roommate a girl?” his dad, Joe, asks as he comes in and sees the sheer amount of _stuff_ on the other side.

 

“I hope not,” his mom, Sara, murmurs as she sets one of Steve’s suitcases on his bed and unzips it, “Boys, go get the rest.  I’ll start on the clothes.”

 

“Thanks, mom,” Steve says, kissing her cheek when she tilts her head toward him.

 

It takes a few trips, but they get everything in the room fairly quickly.  They’re at the end of the hall on the first floor, down in a little corner, and though some of the other doors on the hall are open, he hasn’t seen his roommate anywhere.  They haven’t met yet, but Sara stalked his facebook, hoping to learn about him, though it had looked like Tony thought of facebook the same as Steve did—useless.  All they’d really gotten was a strange default picture of a young man in a contorted position working on a car, his face barely visible.

 

They’re nearly done with unpacking, an hour later, when the door opens.  “Oh,” Tony says, pausing in the threshold, “Hey, you must be Stephen?”

 

“Steve,” he corrects, straightening and turning.

 

Tony takes a moment to look him over, head to toe, and he finds he likes what he sees.  Steve’s _big_ , with huge, sloping shoulders and a thin waist, his muscled thighs visible a little through his jeans, though they’re not tight, just loosely fitted.  He’s wearing a thin sweatshirt and Converse.  His hair is neat, parted but styled, blonde and so soft looking Tony wants to thread his fingers through it.  His eyes are bright and curious, and where Tony holds himself high, Steve carries his big shoulders and his strong jaw a little quieter.  “Anthony?” he asks.

 

Tony snorts, coming in and letting the door close behind him.  “Tony.”  He’s lean and muscled, with wide shoulders and strong wrists, his hands callused, hands that are always working, always busy, always _dirty_.  He’s wearing loose jeans, his bare feet poking out under the denim hem, and a loose, green shirt that dips in a v and shows off his broad chest and sloping collarbones.  His jaw is covered in dark, trimmed hair, curving up near the corners of his mouth, but without a mustache.  His hair is cut close on the sides and back, coming up in a mess of wild, dark hair.  He carries himself with an arrogant sort of strength, and Steve can tell, just from the way he walks in, that he’s incredibly intelligent, but also finds himself far superior to the human race.  “Oh, uh—hi,” he adds when he notices Steve’s parents.

 

“Oh, yeah, these are my parents,” Steve says, waving at them absentmindedly.

 

“Very lovely to meet you, Tony,” Sara says, coming forward with a bright smile.

 

“And you, ma’am,” Tony replies politely, shaking her hand.  His smile falters a little when Joe approaches, but he keeps his grip firm and nods once.  “A pleasure, sir.”

 

“How polite,” Sara comments, going back over to Steve and nudging him, “You could learn a thing or two.  We’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes, Tony, and then you boys can get acquainted.”  Tony just flashes a quick smile and turns to start unpacking his own things.

 

When they’re finished, Steve jerks his chin toward the door, and says, “Hallway?”

 

“Use your words, Steve,” Sara chides, though she heads for the hallway anyway.  They have a teary goodbye, Steve holding onto his parents until they’re both kissing him on either cheek and making him promise to call.

 

When he goes back inside, Tony is quietly sorting through a suitcase that doesn’t contain clothes.  “What is all that?” Steve asks, peering over the edge.

 

“Tools,” Tony says, “Most of it’s—just stuff,” he flaps his hand at the rest of the suitcases and bags, “So, uh—your parents gone?”

 

“Yeah.  Are yours still around?”

 

All at once, it’s like a switch.  Tony’s shoulders get a little sloped, his smile a little easier, and his blue eyes come alive with something akin to mischief.  “Hell no,” he laughs, “My father couldn’t split quick enough.  I doubt you’ll ever meet them.  So, what’s your major, muscles?”

 

Steve rolls his eyes at the nickname as he sits on his bed.  “Art.  You?”

 

“For right now, engineering.  We’ll see what tickles my fancy next year.”

 

“Next _year_?  Don’t you kind of have to be decided by then to graduate in four years?”

 

“Oh, I’ll be halfway done with engineering by then,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder, “I’m probably going to start on physics next semester, finish engineering sophomore year, and pick something else up.”

 

“Dude,” Steve says, staring at him in disbelief, “What are you, a genius or something?”

 

“Certified,” Tony says, winking at him, “My father has had my IQ tested every year since boarding school started at six, reached genius IQ at—thirteen, I think?  Anyway—what kind of art are you interested in?”

 

“I work primarily in charcoal,” Steve says, bringing his legs up to fold them under him.  He starts to ask Tony more about his planned double major, but there’s a knock on the door.  “Come in!” Steve calls.

 

The door opens, admitting a beautiful, tall, raven-haired woman, smiling brightly.  “Hey!” she says, waving.  A man walks in behind her, with dark curls and soft, brown eyes, giving a little, halfhearted wave.  “Tony, remember I was telling you about Bruce?  Ta da!”

 

Tony smiles and straightens, coming over.  He curls an arm around Betty’s waist, looking Bruce up and down, curls to toes.  “Oh yeah,” he says, nodding, his grin sliding wider, “I could swing that.  Guys, this is my roommate, Steve.  Say hi, Steve, these are other human beings.”

 

Steve gives Tony a strange look before waving.  “Hey, nice to meet you.  Do you live on this floor?”

 

“Just down the hall, little bit round the corner.  This room is so much bigger.  Oh, Bruce,” Betty sighs, “They have three windows.  We only have one.  It’s _huge_ , but I wish there were more.  Tony!  You said you were going to unpack!”

 

“I’m trying,” Tony whines, pulling away from her and going back to his things, “I got distracted by Steve’s shoulders.”

 

“What?” Steve says, alarmed.

 

“Honey,” Tony says, looking over at him, “You’re hot.”

 

“Oh my god,” Bruce says, turning away as he tries to contain his laugh.  Betty smacks him, though she’s smirking, as well.

 

“Uh—thank you?” Steve says, looking bewildered.

 

Tony waits a beat and then huffs, turning back around.  “Wow, not even going to return the compliment.  What _ever_.”

 

“I’m, uh—I’m straight,” Steve says, trying to keep his voice even.

 

“So am I,” Tony chimes, shrugging as he goes over to open his closet door.

 

“So am I,” Betty says, “But did you see that redhead a few doors down?  I could turn for that.”

 

“Who, Pepper?” Bruce asks, and Betty turns on him.

 

“You know her?”

 

“Not really.  She was talking to one of the exchange students earlier, and she introduced herself when I walked by.  She is kind of hot.”

 

“Are you two—dating?” Steve asks.

 

“Just over two years,” Betty says proudly, reaching for Bruce’s hand.  He squeezes her hand, smiling.  “Alright, kids,” she says, glancing back at them, “We should finish unpacking.  We should all get dinner later.”  She waves as Bruce leads her out, and then it’s just Steve and Tony again.

 

“God, if she wasn’t taken,” Tony sighs, pulling a suitcase up onto his bed, this one full of clothes, “Or him.”

 

“I thought you said you were straight,” Steve says, frowning.

 

“I don’t like to _label_ things,” Tony says, lifting an armful of clothes up and carrying them over to his dresser, “Sexuality is a fluid and ever-changing thing.  I could be attracted to that chair if I wanted to.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“Not _yet_.”

 

Steve just sighs and falls onto his back.  He wonders how long you have to keep your current roommate before you can request a switch.

 

——

 

They’re just coming back from dinner when Tony’s phone starts ringing, and he digs it out, smiling when he sees his mother’s name.  They leave Betty and Bruce at their room, drop Pepper and Peggy off at theirs, and then continue on down the hall toward theirs.  Steve unlocks the door while Tony answers the phone, “Hey mom.”

 

“Hey sweetie,” she says, her voice warm and so familiar, it makes Tony ache a little, wanting to be back with her, snuggled up on the sofa doing his homework while she read a book.  “How’s everything so far?”

 

“It’s great.  A lot different than I imagined, but really fun so far.”

 

“And your room?  Is it an okay size?” Maria asks, and Tony smiles.

 

“It’s huge, mom.  I mean, not as big as mine back home, but definitely bigger than the ones we saw in the other halls,” he says, flopping on his bed even though half of it is occupied by clothes.

 

“And your roommate?”

 

“Steve’s cool.  He’s an art major.  He said he’s interested in charcoals mostly.”

 

“Oh, any theme in particular?” Maria asks, and Tony smiles at the excitement in her voice.

 

“ _Stephen_ ,” he sings.

 

Steve rolls his eyes as he shrugs out of his jacket.  “Yes, Anthony?” he counters.

 

“Feisty already.  I think I pissed him off, mom,” he whispers conspiratorially before raising his voice again, “My mother is curious if you work in any particular themes.”

 

“Realism, mostly.  Why?” Steve asks, confused.

 

“She’s a _professional_ painter.”

 

“Tony,” Maria laughs, “Stop it.  Have you met anyone else?”

 

“Yeah, actually,” he says, putting as much enthusiasm as possible into his voice to make her happy, “Pepper and Peggy live a few doors down.  I _think_ Peggy might be a lesbian, but I’m not sure Pepper’s swaying either way definitively.  I’ll have to make some rounds by there.  Bruce and Betty live around the corner.  _Mom_ , Betty—oh my god.  She’s majoring in biology, right, but she has all these crazy plans, _like me_ , and she was talking about evolutionary genetics, and it was just so far out, I’m in love with her.  Her boyfriend, Bruce, is majoring in physics right now, but he was saying that he’s trying to focus in, and he interned for a nuclear physicist over the summer, so he thinks that’s what he’s going to try for.  They’re like this beautiful, intelligent, adorable super couple, I want to keep them.”  Maria laughs, clear and bright.

 

It cuts off too soon, and Tony stiffens, waiting.  “Anthony, your father would like a word.”

 

Tony sits up, legs hanging off the bed.

 

“Anthony.”

 

“Father.”

 

“How have you settled in?”

 

“Well, thank you, sir.”

 

“Good, good,” Howard pauses, and Tony holds his breath, “I expect you to excel here, Anthony.  Your GPA should be above a 4.0 each semester as you’ve chosen to attend a lesser school.  Though that does not mean I won’t expect excellent performance once you attend MIT.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

Howard makes a small noise like clearing his throat, and then the line goes dead.

 

Tony sits there for a moment before he sighs and gets up, moving around the room as he finishes unpacking.  He starts playing with wires until he makes a soft, satisfied noise, reaches for a set of wireless earphones, and plugs in.  He taps in and says, “Up and at ‘em, Jarvis.”

 

“Good evening, sir.  How does college suit you thus far?”

 

“Eh, it’s alright.  Take a warm up lap around the room, and then find me a hot spot, darling.”

 

“Who are you talking to?” Steve asks, looking around when a blue light flickers over the walls.

 

“My main squeeze,” Tony says cheerfully, “Jarvis and I met about four years ago.”  Steve just blinks at him.  “He’s a self-improving artificial intelligence.”

 

“Sir.”

 

“What’s up, home slice?”

 

“There appears to be two prime locations, both located in your general vicinity.”

 

“Score!  Hey,” Tony turns, flapping a hand at Steve, “Wanna watch a movie tonight?”

 

“On what?” Steve asks, “We don’t have a TV.”

 

“We don’t _need_ one.  Just think about it, don’t make any hasty decisions.  Jay, where the hell is my laptop?”

 

“Which one, sir?”

 

“Sassy little bastard,” Tony mutters as he starts rifling through his things.

 

A few hours later, after Tony has _finally_ finished unpacking, he comes over and flops on Steve’s bed, gives him a little tap with his foot, and says, “Come on, movie’s starting.”

 

Steve looks behind him in bewilderment, jaw dropping open at the sudden projection floating mid-air.  “How’d you do that?” he asks even as he climbs over to sit next to Tony.

 

“Certified genius,” is all Tony says before he falls quiet.

 

They spend the rest of the night like this, watching something called _Pacific Rim_ , which Tony pauses multiple times to yell about the engineering of the jaegers, which in turn makes Steve groan and shove at him until he lets it play again, which really just turns into Steve laughing at him.  It turns out to be quite a fun night, and certainly not something Steve expected.  In the end, Tony’s stretching, cat-like, and he bumps shoulders with Steve before the projection cuts out, and he goes back over to his side.  “You can shut the lights whenever, if you wanna go to bed,” Tony says even as he sets up camp at his desk, starting to put together his station.

 

“You sure?” Steve asks as he yawns.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be quiet, and you can always yell if I’m not, though yelling at me never seems to work in anyone’s favor, so good luck figuring out a method of—”

 

“Shut up, Tony.”

 

“Okay,” he hums, and it does the trick.

 

Though there’s the occasional shuffle of noise, Steve drifts off to the sound of Tony’s fingers tapping on keys, his voice murmuring softly to Jarvis, and he thinks, maybe, that he could get used to living with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it! You guys don’t even know, I have been _dying_ to get this up. As I post this, I am currently at 130k, around 45 chapters, and I don’t seem to be slowing down. This fic has been absolutely taking over my life in the best way, and I’m so in love with it. I do have a few small—I’m lying, it’s never small—notes, though.
> 
> I’m sure you’ve all noticed one of the warning tags and cringed at it: canon minor character death. I’m spoiling this now because I know you’re going to fall in love with one of them, and I want to prepare you guys. Maria and Howard will die when Tony is 21, as canon states. This has been a very, very hard decision for me to make. Originally, I hadn’t planned for Maria to quite turn out the way she did—you’ll see what I mean later on, she’s beautifully badass—but then, somehow, quite suddenly, I’d fallen head over heels in love with her, and I started to question my original choice to kill her and Howard. I’ve finalized this decision, though, and it needs to happen because Tony needs to go through it. I’m telling you now so that, yes, while you may become attached, you’ll know. It’s been easier for me knowing that, in the end, she’ll be gone, easier, at least, for me to truly enjoy the moments we get with her. I’ll have more to say on her character as we continue through this, but, for now, just now that that’s likely the only death we’ll see.
> 
> Another quick few notes concerning Steve and Tony. I’m going to lay this out for you guys. They will not get together until November of sophomore year. The first semester of freshman year is about 25 chapters long, with winter break taking about 8 chapters. Second semester is much shorter, at 10, and then the first half of first semester sophomore year is only about 5, but I’m warning you guys, this is approximately 50 chapters of chase before they actually start dating. I will not be swayed on this point. It has been mapped out since the beginning, and I plan to stick to my timeline. I will also say this—Steve and Bucky will date their freshman year, Tony will have something of a kind of steady not-boyfriend his freshman year, as well as date Johnny Storm, but, despite both those things that really happen second semester, there is _plenty_ of superhusbands action to go around their freshman year.
> 
> Other than that, I think everything is squared away. I’m very, very excited to be posting this, and I look forward to hearing from you, so don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, when Steve wakes, it’s to his alarm.  He groans, rolling over and slapping a hand over the snooze button.  He starts to drift back off—it’s only six o’clock, and he doesn’t have class until eight forty, but then the door opens and closes, and he looks over blearily.  “Why’re you awake?” he mumbles, yawning.

 

Tony doesn’t respond, instead going back over to his desk, and then Steve notices the earphones.  He lets out a huff before reaching blindly for something he can throw at him, and that’s how Tony ends up on the floor.  Steve grabs hold of an eraser, chucks it across the room, it hits Tony in the shoulder, and he flails, shouting as he topples over.  Steve erupts with laughter, rolling onto his side and trying to muffle it with his pillow.

 

“Asshole!” Tony whines, picking himself up and throwing the eraser violently back at Steve.  It bounces off his head and onto the desk, and Steve and Tony cheer at the same time, fists in the air.

 

“Why’re you awake?” Steve asks again when they’ve calmed down.

 

“Never went to bed,” Tony says offhandedly, dumping back into his chair.  He has _a lot_ of chairs.  Steve hadn’t noticed them at first, when Tony hadn’t started unpacking yet, but then, suddenly they were everywhere.  He’s perched in an incredibly nice computer chair right now, his knee drawn up by his chest and his other foot tucked underneath him.  There’s a rolling stool a few feet from him, another one with a back, a beanbag, and a small futon.  They’re spread out on his side, and it would seem cramped if they didn’t have such a big room and if it wasn’t already such a _Tony_ gesture.

 

“Why?” Steve says around a yawn.

 

“Nosy,” Tony accuses, “Sleep is boring.  There’s too much to do.  Why’re _you_ awake, shoulders?”

 

“Class at 8:40,” Steve mumbles, shifting until he’s comfortable again and closing his eyes.

 

“It’s six, assface, that’s balls early.”

 

“Says the man who didn’t go to bed at all.”

 

“I only sleep when there’s no other choice.  What class?”

 

“Who’s nosy now?  Did you call me assface?”  Steve lifts his head, attempting to glare at Tony, who won’t look over, so he just drops back down and stretches his toes.  “Environmental science,” he says finally, “It’s a gen ed.”

 

“A waste of time,” Tony mutters.

 

Steve rolls his eyes.  “What gen eds are you taking?”

 

“I’m not.”

 

Steve sits up.  “What?”  He looks over at Tony in disbelief.  “Dude, you need, like—I dunno, a lot of them to graduate.”

 

“I placed out of all of them,” he says, not really paying attention as he leans closer to whatever he’s building.  “Took a bunch of exams over the summer, talked to my advisor, and then the freaking president because he wouldn’t sign off on _the plan_ , but they wouldn’t let me out of gym, _assfaces_.”

 

“What gym are you in?”

 

“Fucking—whatever that shit is on Mondays.”

 

“The one that’s on Wednesdays and Fridays, too?”

 

Tony glances over at him.  “You’re in that?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, pausing to stretch his arms up, groaning when his back cracks, “What other classes are you taking?”

 

“ _Stuff_.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Tony sighs and throws down his soldering iron before he swivels in his chair and gives Steve his attention, one eyebrow quirked.  “Indulge me in your academic life, Steve,” he deadpans.

 

“Dude, you don’t have to be a jerk,” Steve mutters, throwing his blankets back and getting out of bed.

 

“Can I go back to work now?”

 

“I was just trying to be nice.”

 

Tony scrubs a hand over his face, sighs, and says, his voice muffled behind his hand, “I’m sorry.  My mother says my manners are horrendous in the morning.  Try again?”

 

Steve weighs his options, decides it’s better to have Tony on his side, and says, “Yeah, sure.”

 

Tony gives him a small, tired smile, turns back to his work, and says, “Italian II and gym on Monday, Wednesday, Friday; Tuesday and Thursday are Advanced Biology and Advanced Calculus; Mechanical Engineering is just Tuesday, and Electrical Engineering on Wednesday.”

 

“Shit, that’s—six classes?  That’s intense.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Tony says, shrugging, “What about you?”

 

“An introductory level lit class and gym on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and then Environmental Science and Drawing I on Tuesday and Thursday.”  Tony doesn’t respond, and Steve looks over to find him a little bit contorted, his right arm stretched forward, pulling at something, his left hand balancing him because he’s on his toes now, and Steve can’t help but smile fondly at him, shaking his head.  “I’m gonna take a shower and then go for a run, if you wanna join me.”

 

“Only for the shower, shoulders.”

 

“Stop calling me that,” Steve mutters before he heads out.

 

When he gets back from his run around seven thirty, Tony’s gone, though there’s a post-it note on Steve’s desk, and he lifts it curiously.  Tony has small, neat handwriting that’s come from years of practice and sharing notes with Howard.  _Hey muscles, left for class.  I’ll see you later for lunch?  I stole your number, I’m gonna sext you!_   Steve laughs, shaking his head as he leaves the note on his desk and goes to get ready for the day.

 

——

 

Tony texts him around eleven, _hey, I’m out in an hour, wanna grab some grub?_ , and so he waits for Tony to get out before he heads to lunch.  They pick Bruce and Betty up on their way—Peggy and Pepper have already left for their afternoon classes—and they spend lunch laughing and getting to know one another.  When they get back to their room, it’s twelve thirty, and Tony flops on his bed, stretching out.  Steve glances over at him before stripping out of his shirt and looking for one to find to the gym.  “Where are you going?” Tony asks, looking over.

 

“Gym.  Wanna come?”

 

“Ugh, _no_ , not if I have to go to class for it, too.  Let me guess, you’re going to go on our class days, too.”

 

“Gotta keep in shape,” Steve says, shrugging one shoulder before he pulls a tight shirt over his head.  He finds a pair of shorts, stuffs those in his bag along with his sneakers, and then goes to take a water from his fridge.  “You sure?” he asks, and Tony groans, rolling onto his stomach.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” he whines, though he continues to lie there.

 

“Let’s go, then,” Steve says, reaching for an eraser and chucking it at Tony, who flails and tumbles off the bed before throwing it back.  Steve catches it, grinning, and Tony just makes an obnoxious noise at him and goes to find something to wear.

 

He yanks off his loose shirt, and Steve is immediately taken aback at the contour of muscles lining his back.  He nods appreciatively—he hadn’t really expected Tony to have any ability to keep up a routine enough to be actually fit, and it makes him wonder just what exactly he does.  “Do you know what kind of class we’re taking?” Tony asks as he pulls another shirt over his head.

 

“A cardio class, I think.”

 

“ _Balls_.  Means lifting on opposite days.  That _blows_ ,” he says, pointing a finger at Steve, who just nods.

 

“Do you, uh—do you have a routine of any kind?”

 

“Are you trying to get me to work out with you, muscles?  Calm down.”

 

“It’s just nice to have someone spotting, shut up,” Steve counters with, so Tony makes a face at him and then goes to find his sneakers.

 

Before long, they’re leaving for the gym.  They stop by Betty and Bruce’s room around the corner, knocking, and Steve’s barely got the invitation out before Betty’s letting out a little squeak of excitement and running back in.  Tony barrels in, slipping past Steve, and so he follows, letting the door close behind him.

 

Their room is something like an organized mess, books piled everywhere, various projects set up around the room.  Both of their beds are pushed against the wall by the window, and Bruce is lying face down on the bed.  “Hey,” Betty whispers, leaning down to kiss his ear, “Gym?”

 

Bruce mumbles something incomprehensible, so Betty just kisses his ear again and goes to get dressed.  “Are you guys doing cardio or weights today?  Bruce, what class do we have tonight?”

 

“Weights,” Steve answers.

 

Bruce groans and then rolls over onto his back, dropping an arm over his eyes.  “You have boxing, I think.  Yoga is on the off days.  Uh—wanna run today?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Betty says, and then she’s putting her back to Steve and Tony and pulling off her shirt, hands coming around to unclasp her bra afterward.  Tony grins, leaning against the wall as he stares at her back.  Bruce points a finger at him without looking, and Tony just laughs.  Steve is pointedly staring at the opposite wall.

 

Betty’s in a sports bra, a loose half shirt, and is just reaching for her yoga pants when Bruce finally gets up.  They pause to kiss, softly, before he starts to dress, and by the time they’re actually leaving, it’s one.  When they get there, Steve and Tony go off to the weight room while Bruce and Betty stretch together, and they move as one, so at ease with one another that it’s like a dance.

 

After a half hour, Tony buggers off because he has class at two, and so he does a quick cool down stretch, yells at Steve not to wait for him for dinner cos he gets out after seven, when the caf closes, and then he’s gone.  Steve stays until two, and then leaves for class.

 

The rest of the day is a jumble of classes until Steve’s coming out of the caf, waving as Peggy and Pepper head back to the dorms.  He goes downstairs where the snack bar is, and, working on his limited knowledge of Tony’s pallet, finds his roommate something to eat for after class.  He has about an hour alone in his room before Tony gets back, and so he puts on some music and starts working on his environmental science homework.

 

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but the next thing he knows, Tony is banging into the room, yelling over his shoulder, “Fine, _fine_ , don’t be a dick about it, Je _sus_.”

 

“Anthony, you—”

 

“My name is _Tony_!” and then the door slams and locks.  “Our CA is a major bitchcup,” Tony mutters, stomping across the room and throwing his backpack at the wall.

 

Steve jerks upright, blinking rapidly as he yawns.  “What?” he mumbles, turning.

 

Tony softens a little, seeing his sleepy expression, and he just shakes his head and says, “Nothing.  You okay?”

 

“Yeah, I just—guess I’m tired.  How was class?”

 

“ _Boring_.  We reviewed whatever the hell comes before advanced calculus, so I just worked on some new formulas.  Ew, is that homework?  For _what_?” Tony asks, and Steve almost jumps because he’s just _there_ , peering over his shoulder.

 

“Environmental science,” Steve says, yawning again.

 

“Gen eds,” Tony mutters like it’s something to be ashamed of, and Steve rolls his eyes.  He starts to say something, but then Tony flops onto Steve’s bed, arms coming up to fold under his head as he stretches out his legs.  “So, do you have any early classes tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, one at nine.”

 

“That mean you wanna go to bed at a normal human time?”

 

“Yes, Tony, I would appreciate that,” Steve says, turning to face him, “That okay with you?”

 

“Whatever, I’m not sleeping.  What’s on the docket for tonight, shoulders?”

 

“Stop calling me that,” Steve says, lifting a foot to kick him lightly.

 

“Give me another body part to fantasize about then.  Come on, shirt off, let me see them pecks.”

 

“You’re weird,” Steve says before he gets up, “Get your yoga mat.”

 

“ _What_ yoga mat?”

 

“The one you hid under your bed,” Steve says as he pulls off his shirt.

 

“Are we doing naked yoga?” Tony asks, sitting up quickly.

 

“ _No_.  Get your mat.  Come on, I’m not dealing with you bored.  One day, and I already know that’s a bad idea,” Steve says, stripping out of his jeans and tossing a pair of tight shorts toward his bed.

 

“Are these _spandex_?” Tony asks, lifting them, “Okay, butt cheeks, this’ll work.”

 

“Oh my _god_.”  Steve drops his face into his palm, groaning, but Tony just ignores him and goes to change.  When they’re both ready, mats unrolled and Steve in his yoga shorts, Tony in something that looks suspiciously like boxer briefs but is a little tighter and shorter that Steve desperately wants to make fun of him for, but he holds back because he thinks that the actual yoga might be more entertaining.

 

“Stretch out first,” Steve says, already moving to do so, and Tony whines through the whole thing, complaining about tight thighs and sore wrists and not being able to “put my damn legs that far apart, what are you trying to _do_ to me, butt cheeks” and just about everything else he can find to whine about.  Steve is just turning to smack him as he lifts out of a butterfly stretch, turns, and Tony’s nose is resting between his toes, his arms stretched out above him.  “Dude,” he says, and Tony hums, “Why are you complaining?  I can’t even get that far,” he says.

 

Tony comes out of it slowly, shrugging.  “You’re clearly not trying hard enough,” he quips, and then, like a switch, it becomes the Tony show.

 

Steve doesn’t realize it at first until they’re in dancer halfway through the routine, and Tony lets out a slow breath, head tipping back as his leg curls higher, and then he’s rolling forward, his other hand coming down to support him in a dancer side plank.  Steve gapes at him.  “Did you hustle me?”

 

“It’s not hustling unless you put money down, Steve,” Tony says calmly as he comes back out into a standing position.  “What’s next?” he asks, looking over.

 

Steve continues to work them through his core routine until they’re slowing back down, and after they’ve held corpse pose enough that Steve feels fully relaxed, Tony gets up and claims he’s doing stand practice.  “What?” Steve says, watching him curiously as he starts shifting on his mat, rolling up onto his toes and then back down, knees going with him.  He rolls out his wrists, and then he’s squatting, taking a few deep breaths before he’s moving into crow, and Steve watches in amazement as he holds it for a few breaths and then slowly moves into a handstand, shifts into a shelf, brings his legs back, and then folds back down.  “Tony—”

 

“Hush, daddy’s working,” Tony says, and Steve just sits back and watches.  He moves into a baby crow next, works his way up into a forearm stand, and then starts working on a scorpion.  He falls a few times, coming down into a backbend before he kicks his way back up.  He gets it eventually, feet curling backward as his torso rolls forward a little, head lifting up, and he starts laughing when he manages to hold it for a few seconds.  When he comes back out, he’s grinning.  “Dude, you don’t even know how long I’ve been working on that,” he says as he moves his mat out of the way, leaving it on the floor near his bed.

 

“That was pretty impressive,” Steve admits.

 

“Anytime you want, butt cheeks.”

 

“You are absolutely—”

 

“Choose your swear word wisely,” Tony says, grinning at Steve, who just rolls his eyes and turns away, going back to his desk.

 

Steve works on homework for the rest of the night, and it’s Tony that keeps him awake, listening to him tinker and occasionally erupt in a colorful grumble of profanity.  When he finally hits the lights and gets into bed, Tony quiets a little, and, for the second night, Steve is lulled to sleep by him working.

 

——

 

Tony’s hands start to shake around four o’clock, so he decides some physical activity is in order.  He moves about the room quietly, finding something comfortable that he can run in, and then he’s going down the back stairs and out the back entrance.  He runs until his knees start to ache, and then he slows to a jog and makes his way back.  It’s five o’clock when he returns, so he grabs his shower things and heads for the bathroom.  He takes his time, just letting the hot water run over him, lulling him to something close to sleep until he shakes himself back, finishes up, dries off and dresses, and then heads back to his room.

 

Steve is still asleep when he gets there, and he takes a moment to appreciate the curve of his shoulders before he takes one of his tablets to bed and pulls up a series of scholarly articles he’s been working his way through.  He sticks an earphone in each ear, taps one, and says, “You awake, Jarvis?”

 

“For you, sir, always.  How may I be of service?”

 

“I’m reading and sleepy—there’s a playlist somewhere for that, right?”

 

“Of course, sir.  We compiled it two months ago.”

 

“Excellent.  Hit me with some tunes, darling.”

 

It’s a playlist designed to keep him awake, and so, when Steve rolls over onto his back approximately five minutes before his alarm goes off at seven, Tony’s still awake and reading.  He glances up and over at him, decides he’ll get up and switch modes of work when Steve is gone, but then he’s caught just staring at him, admiring the way his chest rises and falls slowly, the way his face looks so soft when he’s asleep.  Tony finds himself smiling fondly before he shakes his head and goes back to his reading.

 

Like clockwork, five minutes _after_ he’s hit snooze, an eraser comes rocketing over and pings off Tony’s forehead.  He jumps and just barely manages to keep hold of his tablet.  “Dickface!” he yells, throwing the eraser back.

 

“Why are you still awake?” Steve mumbles, head turned to the side, blue eyes open and looking over at Tony sleepily.

 

“Sleep is for the illiterate,” Tony says, rubbing his forehead.

 

“Obsequious,” Steve says for good measure, sitting up and stretching in bed.

 

Tony snorts.  “Obsequious—adjective.  Characterized by or showing servile complaisance or deference; obedient; dutiful.  Origin—1375-1425, late Middle English.”

 

“Now you’re just showing off.”

 

“Correct.  What classes do you have today?” Tony asks as he tosses his tablet toward his pillow and then stretches languidly.

 

“An introductory level literature class for a gen ed and gym.  You?”

 

“Italian II and gym.  Cool, we’ll be out at the same time.  We should—do something.”

 

Steve looks over curiously, but Tony’s attention is focused on his laptop as he plops down at his desk.  “Like what?” Steve asks.

 

“I don’t _know_ , you think of something.  God, I can’t be responsible for _everything_ , Stephen.  Hey!” he exclaims, turning abruptly.  Steve looks up from his stretch, nodding.  “We should throw a party this weekend.”

 

“What kind of party?”

 

“Okay, real talk time.  Do you drink?”

 

“I have.  I try not to make a thing out of it.  Do you?”

 

“My father’s an alcoholic, it’s an inherited trait.  Smoke?”

 

“What, marijuana?”

 

“Oh, you’re a goody-two-shoes, aren’t you?” Tony huffs, turning back to his laptop, “Yes, shoulders, _marijuana_.”

 

“No, I don’t.  As an athlete, I can’t—”

 

“Bor _ing_.  There’s no study that—”

 

“Machiavellian.”

 

“You know, this tactic might work, asshat.  Machiavellian—adjective.  Being or acting in accordance with the principles of government analyzed in Machiavelli’s _The Prince_ —which sucks, by the way—in which political expediency is placed above morality and the use of craft and deceit to maintain the authority and carry out the policies of a ruler is described.  Origin—1560-1570.”  Tony glares at him while he’s defining, and Steve just makes a haughty noise at him and goes to dress for his morning run.

 

Tony grumbles at him, but Steve ignores him, though he’s on the verge of laughing by the time he leaves.  Tony waits until he’s gone before he decides he needs something else to keep himself busy, and so he takes a trip down the hall to the CA’s room.  They need to get on good terms, and so he knocks and waits, smiling crookedly when she opens the door.  “Can we talk?” he asks, “I feel really bad about the other day.”

 

She sighs, glaring at him, before she nods and opens the door wider.  And that’s how Tony ends up sleeping with their CA on the second day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably make a note about this thing that’s happening on my Tumblr. Every once in a while—it’s slowed down since I’ve started posting—I do these stupid things called _[mary flails about the college au](http://sleeponrooftops.tumblr.com/tagged/a+heartbeat+drives+you+mad)_ , just little episodes that let you in on some of the things going on. For example, I’ve talked about Maria—in depth, actually—the various relationships that happen, how angry I am with the boys for not getting together yet, and, oh yeah, Saint Patrick’s Day because that was fun. It’s kind of cool, though, and you get little insights into what’s happening while I’m writing. I’ve just posted one that’s very excitedly talking about where I am in the timeline right now—when we’ve finished freshman year, I’ve got a photo to upload of all the insanity Erin and I go through plotting this thing out—because superhusbands will be happening this week in my writing. I am very, very close to it, and absurdly excited about it. Anyway, check out the link to my Tumblr if you want to see some very basic spoilers. Otherwise, don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! I have a playlist for this story, and though I would like to give it to you guys, I think it would make more sense to present the songs individually as they fit with the chapters. The party in this chapter is relatively short in comparison to other chapters, so I’ll only give you one of the many party songs I use while writing, and one that fits this party in particular: [Warrior by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDrschw-wdI).

Their first week passes relatively smoothly.

 

By the time Friday rolls around, though, Tony’s feeling exhausted.  He’s been up for too long, and his hands are trembling when he leaves for Italian.  By the time they get to lunch, he’s starting to feel sick, and he barely eats, mostly just poking at his food.  When it’s time for gym, Steve is watching him worriedly, and though Tony makes it through, when they get in the locker room, he’s struggling to put his pants back on, and Steve sighs, going to help him.  “When was the last time you slept?” he asks, reaching into Tony’s locker for his shirt.

 

He hands it over as Tony shrugs.  “Last week sometime?”

 

“ _Before_ we got here?”

 

“Maybe?”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, shaking his head, “You’re going to sleep when we get back.”

 

“Okay,” Tony mumbles before he yawns.

 

He stumbles a little when they’re walking back, so Steve gets him talking about Italian, and Tony lights up, even flailing his hands around a little.  When they finally get back to the room, Steve ushers Tony over to his bed, and then leaves to go to the bathroom.  Tony looks up when the door opens and closes, squints at the door for a few moments, and then pushes out of his bed, staggering across the room to Steve’s bed.  He drops down onto it, knees curling in, tries to scoot up closer to the pillow, but his body is so heavy that he just gives in.

 

When Steve returns, Tony is out cold, and he sighs when he sees Tony on _his_ bed.  He goes about changing, decides which of his classes to get started on for homework, and then gets comfortable at his desk, grabbing a pair of headphones and getting to work.  The hours tick by until five o’clock rolls by, and, right on time, there’s a knock on the door.  He goes to answer it, smiling when he sees Betty and Bruce.  “Just let me get my things,” he says quietly, and Betty nods, stepping in after him.

 

She coos when she sees Tony, smacking Bruce’s chest.  “Look at how _soft_ he looks,” Betty whispers, and Bruce just nods and leans forward, kissing her shoulder.  He rests his chin there, stepping in to curl his arms around Betty’s waist, and she smiles, leaning back into him a little.

 

Steve quickly tugs on a pair of Converse, finds his keycard and key to the room, starts to leave, and then stops, looking back at Tony.  There’s a light layer of goose bumps covering his arm, and so Steve goes back, taking one of the blankets folded up at the bottom of his bed and carefully tucking it over Tony.  He grabs a sticky note, scribbles out _went to dinner, I’ll bring you back something_ , and then, as he’s ripping it off, bites back a laugh.  Steve reaches forward, presses it against Tony’s cheek, and Bruce snorts, stepping out of the room to laugh as Steve turns back toward them.

 

When Steve gets back, Tony is still asleep, the note still stuck to his cheek, so Steve puts his food in the fridge, throws the note in the trash, and then goes back to his homework.  He gets everything done for Monday and Tuesday, and, by then, enough time has passed since dinner that he feels like doing yoga.  After that’s done, he stands by his bed, staring at Tony, trying to decide what to do.

 

In the end, he gives Tony a few shoves until he’s on the other side of the bed, sets up with his laptop, and watches some TV for the rest of the night.  He forgets Tony is there until, suddenly, something’s thudding against his thigh, and Steve jumps, looking down.  Tony shifts until he’s on his back, squinting up at Steve through one eye.

 

“Why are you on my bed?” he asks, opening the other eye.  He frowns at him, and Steve shakes his head.

 

“You’re on my bed,” he says, and Tony snorts.

 

“That can’t be right.  I—oh yeah, I came over here.  I don’t like my bed, you should just let me sleep here.”

 

“No.”

 

“But—”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re a _bully_ ,” Tony whines, rolling onto his side and pressing his face into Steve’s thigh.

 

“Dude,” Steve says, giving his shoulder a shove, “Will you go back to your own bed?”

 

“No,” Tony says petulantly, so Steve sighs and lifts his laptop, reaching to set it on his desk.  “Oh no,” Tony groans, and a second later, Steve hauls him off the bed and onto the floor.  “Whatever, muscles,” Tony grumbles from the floor, and Steve can’t help but laugh as he _crawls_ over to his bed.

 

“You’re so ridiculous,” he comments.

 

“Yeah, and you’re _hot_ ,” Tony counters with before he’s clambering up onto his bed, whining while he kicks at his blankets, and then passing out.  Steve laughs at him the whole time until Tony’s snoring, and then he shuts off his laptop and settles himself, yawning and stretching.  The side where Tony was sleeping is still warm, so he scoots closer, drawing the blankets up over his shoulders.

 

——

 

Steve has his alarm set for ten o’clock because he’d actually like to sleep in a little for once, but at exactly nine forty-seven, Tony lets out a holler, tumbles off the bed, and shouts, “Party weekend!”

 

Steve groans, rolling closer to his pillow.  “Tony, _shut up_.”

 

“Stephen!” he exclaims, scrambling upright, “I slept all day and night, it is time to be—awake!” he finishes, jumping on top of Steve, who shouts in surprise and tries to jerk away, but Tony just clings to him and giggles.  “We are going to get _drunk_ and smoke some of the _Mary Jane_ and dance with all the pretty girls and boys and, oh, _pecks_!” he shrieks, one hand slapping against Steve’s chest.  Steve rolls and throws, and Tony sprawls out on the floor, cackling.

 

“You’re psychotic,” Steve mutters, glaring down at him.  He’s on his front, head turned to the side, and Tony looks a little more manic than usual from this position.

 

“Illiterate men have tried to diagnose me so,” Tony says, pointing at him.

 

“Illiterate men?”

 

“ _And women_ , don’t be sexist, _god_.  Psychiatrists, psychologists, some philosophers probably, maybe a few mathematicians, a—”

 

“So, unintelligent?”

 

“They might as well be illiterate.  I haven’t decided if you are or not yet.  Hey!  We’re having a weekend party!”

 

“What the hell is a weekend party?” Steve asks, shifting a little and drawing the blankets up higher.

 

“Saturday and Sunday, baby,” Tony sings, wiggling on the floor until Steve is hiding his laughter in his pillow.

 

“Why are you so _weird_?” he groans.

 

“Bad touches make it so!”

 

Tony rolls before Steve can lift his head, and, when he looks up, only Tony’s feet are poking out from under his bed.  “Tony,” he says, reaching down and slapping his ankle, “What do you mean?”

 

“My father is an _angry_ drunk, Stephen, why do you think I’m so—I am being heralded!” he breaks off with, shimmying back out from under the bed and crawling over to his desk.  He slaps a hand up on his desk, flapping around until he gets an earphone, and then sticks it in.  “Hey babe, what’s up?”

 

“Sir, it is ten o’clock.”

 

“ _And_?”

 

“You need to take your medication, sir.”

 

“Balls,” Tony grumbles, forehead dropping onto the edge of his desk.  He’s quiet for a few moments before, “Nah, not feeling it, Jay.  Remind me on Monday, I’m taking the weekend off.”

 

“Sir, might I remind you what happened last time you took the weekend off?  I really don’t think—”

 

“Didn’t build you to think, Jarvis, I—”

 

“As a self-improving artificial intelligence, sir, you did.”

 

“You’re—stop being illiterate.”

 

“Sir—”

 

“Toodle-doo, cutie!” he sings, pulling the earphone out and throwing it back onto the desk.  He flops onto his back, stretches out, and then rolls onto his front, jumping to his feet.  “I’m peeing, pecks, wanna come watch?”

 

“Don’t be lewd,” Steve mutters, though he throws his blankets off anyway.  They walk down the hall to the bathroom together, Steve yawning as Tony hums to himself, hips swaying back and forth.  “So, did you actually invite people to this thing?” Steve asks on their way back.

 

“I did because I’m _awesome_.  Starts at ten, muscles, gonna be good.  Oh, look!” he shrieks, opening his closet door and bouncing in, “I’m in the closet!  Steve, come in here with me, we’ll make out and get you bented up!”

 

Steve closes the door, and Tony starts giggling.

 

——

 

The party really starts at eleven, though Tony starts drinking at ten, and by the time everyone starts showing up, he’s slowly heading past tipsy and toward buzzed.  He taps an earphone and says, “Jay, drop my needle!”  Music starts leaking through the room, and soon, the party is underway.  Steve’s been to plenty of parties in high school, but he’s never quite experienced something like this.  It’s loud and almost out of control, and Steve starts to worry that their CA is going to come knocking when he looks over and sees her grinding with Tony.  He just sighs and shakes his head, and he’s about to reach for another beer when Peggy latches onto his arm and yanks him into the crowd.  Pepper appears at his other elbow, and he just laughs and gives in, letting them get him moving.

 

Steve dances with them until this beautiful woman with long, dark blonde hair steps in front of him, arms sliding up to curl around his neck.  “Sharon!” she calls over the music.

 

“Steve!”

 

“Steve,” she hums, lifting onto her toes, and Steve dips down to meet her, kissing her fast and hard.  He pulls away only because Tony lets out a whoop and slaps his ass.

 

“Get some, butt cheeks!” he catcalls before he’s dancing away.

 

Steve watches him long enough to see him and their CA disappear out the door, and then Sharon has his attention again.

 

On the other side of the room, Bruce presses Betty against a wall, mouth dancing down her neck.  “We should go back to the room,” Betty murmurs.

 

Bruce groans, hands gripping her tighter.  “ _Yes_.”

 

Betty pushes him away, takes his hand, and leads him out of the room.  She laughs when they pass the CA’s room, and a high cry echoes out into the hall.

 

Inside, Tony grins and kisses her stomach before standing.  “Don’t be too loud,” she murmurs, pointing lazily at Tony.

 

“I promise nothing,” Tony says before he’s gone.  When he returns, the party has slowed down a little, and so he switches tracks, grabs a bottle of something, and yells.  He’s met with a resounding cheer, and the party picks up again.

 

It continues on like this.

 

Tony dances with everyone he can, hands flittering over bodies until two nameless girls are pulling him into the closet, and he giggles about fluid sexuality before one of them is shutting him up.  When he returns, loose-limbed and smirking, Bruce and Betty are back, and he saunters over to them.  “We—” he begins, grabbing a bottle of whisky and taking a long pull, “—should have a threesome sometime.”

 

Betty grabs Bruce, Bruce starts chugging his beer, and Tony laughs loudly.  “Luke!” Betty exclaims suddenly, waving.  Tony turns as someone crosses the room, and he shrugs, facing his super couple again.  Luke is average-looking, with short brown hair and plain brown eyes, but then Betty says, “Luke is a junior majoring in neuroscience, Tony,” and he turns again.

 

“ _Really_?” Tony says, grin sliding into place, “Tony Stark.  Tell me more.”  Luke just curls a hand around his elbow and tugs him into the crowd to dance.

 

As the night wanes on, Sharon appears with a set of keys, says, “My twin sister lives on your floor,” and leads Steve down the hall to Peggy’s room.

 

Tony continues to drink and dance, Luke presses something small and white to his tongue, and then the night really begins, though that’s the last thing Tony remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, good news! I have just finished the first 50 chapters, and I can now say that superhusbands is a very real thing. They are dating, they are happy, and I am ecstatic. On this vein, I wanted to address something someone asked me the other day—yes, I will be writing them together. I promise you, this will not be 50 chapters of chase and, like, 5 chapters of them actually being together. I will be writing all the way through senior year until graduation, and possibly even the summer after. It will be very, very long. I plan to slow things down big time when they get together so we can see all their little moments together. Anyway, I’m rambling—they are together! I’m not telling you which chapter it happens in, but it’s toward the late 40s, and it was so amazing to write it, I can’t wait until you guys can read it. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, when Tony wakes up, it’s still early, _absurdly early_ , but his chest is so tight, he can barely breathe.  There’s a warm body next to him—not Luke—and Peggy and Pepper are in Steve’s bed, and Tony _can’t breathe_.

 

He tries to scream, but it just comes out as a thin whine, and so he throws himself out of bed, hitting the floor with a dull thud.  “Jarvis,” he gasps, struggling to get to his desk.  He tries so hard to stay away from illegal substances unless he knows what he’s taking because _this_ always happens.

 

Tony lets out a growl and forces himself up.  Once on his feet, he yanks open his desk drawer, tries desperately to open one of his many pill bottles and fails, and so grabs a handful of them and staggers out of his room.

 

His vision is starting to blacken around the edges when he falls against Betty’s door, slumps to the floor, and thuds his head against the door for good measure.  It takes nearly a full two minutes, but then Betty is opening the door, and Tony sags through the threshold.  “Hey,” he says weakly, waving up at her.  His breaths are coming in short bursts now, and he knows he’s wheezing, and Betty looks a little confused and a little concerned.  “Can you, uh—woah,” he says when she helps him to his feet, “Oh fuck, I’m probably gonna throw up soon.”

 

“Are you still drunk?” she sighs, starting to lead him out of the room when his breath catches, and his knees give out.  He pushes his fist of bottles toward Betty, and she takes them with a furrowed brow.  Tony whines, his eyes starting to roll back, until Betty catches on, and she yells, “ _Bruce_!  Help me!”

 

And then Tony passes out.

 

Bruce hurries over, and they manage to get Tony into the room.  “Wake him up,” Betty says after they’ve dumped him on the bed.  She starts looking at the various bottles in her hand, her frown deepening until she reaches one, and then she pops it open at the same time Bruce tips a bottle over on the bridge of Tony’s nose, letting the water trickle out over his eyes.  He gasps awake, shaking, and Betty hurries over.  “How many?” she asks.

 

He holds up two fingers, Betty knocks them out, and then helps him take them, letting him sag backward afterward.  “Fuck,” he groans after a second.

 

“Do you need anything else?”

 

“Inhaler.”

 

“I’ll get it,” Bruce says, getting up off the bed and going to find pants.

 

Tony grunts.  “EpiPen maybe.  Desk.”

 

Bruce just nods and heads out.  Betty sits next to Tony, stroking his hair back from his forehead.  He still can’t breathe very well, he’s trembling, and though he knows he’s not having a heart attack, it certainly feels like it.  “Why do you have diuretic pills, Tony?”

 

Tony just groans and shakes his head.  They remain silent until Bruce returns, and Tony flails out a hand.  Bruce hands over the inhaler, and Tony quickly applies it.  His breathing starts to slow gradually until he’s feeling a little more relaxed, and though this is really only a temporary fix, it’ll hold him over until the medication starts to kick in.  “Tony,” Betty says.

 

“I was born with a congenital heart defect,” he mumbles without opening his eyes, “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have come in here, but I think someone gave me something last night, and it kind of accelerated the process.  Usually, it takes about two days before I’m feeling like shit.  Can you just—” he breaks off, holding out a hand, and Betty helps him upright.  He squeezes his eyes shut almost immediately after opening them, focusing on his breathing.  “Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?” he asks finally.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Thank you for helping me.  I’m going back to my room.”  He effectively rolls off the bed, somehow manages to get to his feet, swipes up his pill bottles, and staggers out of the room, ignoring Betty telling him to come back.  He stops by the bathroom, heaves into the toilet for a few minutes, and then stumbles back out into the hall and toward his room.  Once inside, he kicks the man he doesn’t recognize until he wakes up, grunts, “Get out,” and then starts fumbling with his pill bottles, trying to decide what he feels like taking today.  He ends up with something that might be a small sedative, and then, when he’s feeling a little steadier, gets up and goes over to shove at Pepper’s shoulder until she groans and glares at him.  “Get out,” he mumbles before he turns away again, and Pepper sighs, shaking Peggy awake before they leave, as well.

 

Tony dumps down at his desk, yanks open one of his drawers, and starts attempting to roll a blunt when the door opens.  “Dude, what the hell,” Steve grumbles, locking the door as he comes in, “It’s eight in the fucking morning.”

 

“Roll this for me, man,” he says, turning and giving Steve a tired smile.

 

“No,” Steve says, flopping onto his bed and wiggling until he can get the blankets over him.

 

“Dude, _come on_.  I’ll keep whining, and you won’t be able to get to sleep.”  Tony’s chair scrapes across the floor as he pushes away from the desk, and Steve groans, hiding in his pillow.  “ _Steeeeeeeeve_ ,” Tony whines as he makes his way across the room.

 

Steve braces himself a moment before Tony clambers on top of him, knees and elbows poking everywhere until he dumps onto the side near the wall, snuggling close.  “Tony, no,” Steve says, and then Tony’s licking his cheek.  “Fuck _you_ ,” he says, giving Tony a shove so he rocks against the wall, “Where’s the weed?”

 

“Desk,” Tony says with a sloppy smile.

 

Steve rolls over and pushes up onto an elbow, taking the blunt and carefully rolling it.  He fumbles through one of his desk drawers until he finds a lighter, and then he’s turning onto his back and handing it over to Tony, who hums happily before taking a long drag.  When he hands it over, Steve sighs and takes it from him.

 

They smoke in silence for a bit until Tony’s feeling nicely buzzed, and he tries to cuddle, so Steve shoves him away again.  “You’re so lame, shoulders.  Where were you this morning?”

 

“Peggy’s room.”

 

“ _Dude_ , did you sleep with the lesbians?  I called dibs!”

 

“You did _not_ ,” Steve says, handing over the blunt.

 

“I am _now_!” Tony squeaks before he takes a drag, “I’m gonna have a threesome with the lesbians and the super couple, just wait.  Why were you in Peggy’s room?”

 

“She has a twin sister,” Steve says, grinning, and Tony guffaws.

 

“You slept with _Sharon_?  Dude.”

 

“You slept with our CA,” Steve accuses, trying to take the blunt back, but Tony hoards it, giggling.

 

“That was earlier in the week.  I only gave her a little lady ticklin’, she ain’t give me _nothing_ , got that from those girls.”

 

“What?  Stop hoarding.”

 

Tony hands over the blunt and says, his eyes closed and his mouth curled up in a sleepy smile, “I don’t know.  Two girls shoved me in the closet, _where I do not belong_ , and one of them sucked my cock, don’t know what the other one did, but I think they started making out after that.  Oh my _god_ , maybe I had sex with them!”

 

“You don’t know who you had sex with last night?” Steve asks, frowning at him.

 

“Not really,” Tony says, snatching the blunt back, “I _thought_ it was Luke, but then there was that guy in my bed this morning, so I dunno.  _Dude_.  How was Sharon?”

 

“I really like her, I think,” Steve says, smiling softly.

 

“You should ask her on a _date_ , Stephen.”

 

“Anthony.”

 

“Nope, you don’t have that privilege yet.  Gimme that.”  He takes a pull, gives it back, and then snuggles up, biting Steve when he tries to push him away.  “I’m taking a nap, get over it.”

 

“Tony, _no_.  Go back to your own bed,” Steve whines, trying to pry Tony away from him.

 

“I don’t like my bed right now, it betrayed me,” Tony mumbles, “Stop moving, or I’ll kiss you.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes and settles, finishing off the blunt, and he means to stay awake, but it’s so warm, and he’s higher than he meant to get, so he drifts off, head rolling toward Tony’s.

 

——

 

When Steve wakes up, it’s a little past four, and the room is a fucking _sauna_.  He starts to move when he remembers Tony, and he sighs, looking down at him.  Tony’s curled into his side, half his face hidden, his knees pressed against Steve’s thigh.  Steve reaches down, pushing Tony’s hair from his face.  “Tony,” he whispers, shaking his shoulder lightly.

 

“No,” Tony mumbles, snuggling closer.

 

“Dude, come on, get up.”

 

“You are _comfortable_.”

 

Steve sighs, settling again and closing his eyes.  “My head fucking hurts.”

 

“My fault,” Tony chimes

 

“We should get food.  I’m _hungry_ ,” Steve says, nudging Tony.  Tony just whines, so Steve curls a hand around the back of his neck, thumb rubbing up along his jaw.  “Come on,” he murmurs.  Tony _purrs_ , and Steve laughs softly, squeezing his neck lightly.  “Come on.”

 

“Find me clothes, and I’ll consider it.”

 

Steve just shakes his head and gets up, dressing himself before he goes to rummage around in Tony’s dresser.  He finds him something comfortable, a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, tosses them at Tony, and says, “Get dressed.  I’m going to go pee.”

 

Tony waits until he’s gone before he stretches and gets out of bed, going over to his desk and yanking open drawers.  He takes an assortment of pills, makes a mental note to watch his alcohol intake tonight so he doesn’t end up dead, and then gets dressed.

 

They go to dinner, Tony realizes he’s starving and starts stealing Steve’s food until they go up for seconds, and then they’re just lounging, pretending they’re going to leave soon, but really just chatting, Tony playing twenty questions until Steve starts asking them back, and then Tony’s rambling, so they get their things ready and leave.

 

Part two of the party commences a little earlier that night, around nine, and people actually start showing up then.  Tony decides to stick to beer tonight, rolls a blunt before most of the crowd starts arriving, and by the time the bass is thumping through the room, bodies sliding together, layers of clothes slowly starting to come off, Tony is feeling good.

 

When Betty and Bruce arrive, Betty finds Tony immediately, leaning close so she can be heard over the music, “I brought strobe and black lights!  I totally forgot I took them with me to school!”

 

“Betty, you gorgeous little brain!” Tony shrieks, and then he’s leaping forward and kissing her, quick as lightning, giggling when Bruce starts for him, and he dances away, getting to work hooking up the lights.  In no time, Tony’s letting out a wild yell, and the lights come on all at once, and the room erupts.

 

The bass rolls up louder until Steve can feel it in his feet, and he can’t help it, he just wants to let go.  Sharon comes in with her sister and Pepper, and he grins, tipping back the rest of his drink as Tony appears at his elbow.  He takes the blunt from Tony’s mouth, takes a long drag, Tony whistles, and Steve heads for Sharon.

 

There isn’t a single body still when the door closes again, and Tony finds himself caught in the middle of Peggy, Pepper, and some nameless man.  He throws his hands up, closing his eyes, sound flowing through his veins.

 

A pair of lips ghost over his neck, and Tony sinks in immediately, letting Luke wind his arms around his waist.  “Hey handsome,” he purrs against Tony’s ear, and Tony turns, fingers twining in Luke’s hair and pulling him down for a kiss.  “I want you,” Luke says when they break apart, hand sliding down Tony’s front, and Tony just tips his head back and hangs onto him.  “Tony.”

 

“Closet,” Tony says, head coming back up, and Luke leads him away.

 

Tony’s closet actually has a door that opens into the room and locks on the inside, so he closes them in, the strobe light leaking in through the cracks, and Tony latches onto Luke, kissing him messily as Luke starts tugging at his jeans, pulling them open and taking Tony’s cock out, stroking him until he’s fully hard.  “Turn around,” he whispers, lips dancing up Tony’s jaw, tongue curling out around the shell of Tony’s ear.

 

He’s more lucid than he was last night, more aware, and so he feels it all over when Luke slides in.  His head tips back, mouth coming open in a gasp as Luke fills him, settles there and leans close, pressing kisses down Tony’s neck and onto his shoulder.  “Luke,” Tony groans, reaching for one of his hands and guiding it to his hip, “ _Fuck me_.”  And so he does.

 

When they’re done, and Tony’s grinning lazily, Luke leans down, fingers hooking around Tony’s jaw and thumb sliding along his bottom lip.  “I’m not done with you,” he whispers before he kisses him, licking into Tony’s mouth.

 

“I hope not,” Tony says when Luke pulls away, and he opens the door before Luke’s got his pants up, blows him a kiss, and then jumps back into the party.

 

The first thing he notices is that Betty doesn’t have a shirt on, and he makes a beeline for her until Bruce is appearing behind him and punching him between the shoulders.  Tony whines, turning, and he’s about to throw a punch back when he recognizes Bruce, and he just grins and curls his fingers in Bruce’s shirt, tugging him forward.  “Not happening,” Bruce says, his hand coming up to fist in Tony’s hair and pull him away.  Tony goes, letting himself be directed into the crowd, and he lets himself be taken by the first girl that sets hands on him, pulling her against him and drowning in the heat of sound.

 

Luke appears a few moments later, tight against Tony’s back, and Tony is caught between a hurricane and a river, so he just lets himself be pulled either way until the girl is giving up, sliding away, and Tony turns, giving Luke his attention.  “You’re mine,” Luke growls.

 

“I am an _independent women_!” Tony shrieks, sashaying one hip out, “Respect the tush, babe.”  He twists out of his grip easily, slips through the crowd until he finds Steve, grabs at him, and slides between him and Sharon.

 

“Tony!” Steve yells, but Sharon turns, shakes her head, and then grins down at Tony.

 

“Hello, crazy roommate.”

 

“Oh, is _that_ what he’s calling me?” Tony exclaims, head tipping back so it lands against Steve’s chest.  He scrapes his teeth along his bottom lip, blue eyes locked on Steve’s, and Steve just stares back, eyes wide and mouth open as though he’d been about to say something.  “You’re gonna regret that, Steve,” he says, his voice pitched low and smooth.

 

“Tony,” Steve whispers.

 

Sharon lets out a loud laugh, dances away from them, and Tony shifts, sliding lower against Steve’s groin as he pulls Steve’s hands forward, curling their fingers together as he pins them against his hips, his body pressed close to Steve’s, rolling them together.  Tony doesn’t expect it to work, but somehow, Steve lets him, and though it’s only for a few, probably shock-filled seconds, Tony’s putting all his moves to work, and then Steve jerks back and shoves Tony away from him.  “Tony!” he squeaks, but they both know why he’s blushing, why he’s trying to stay absolutely still, why Tony’s grin is a little feral.

 

“Keep denying it,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder, “You’ll fall for me eventually.  Everyone does.  Speaking of,” he adds as a hand curls around his wrist, and he blows Steve a kiss before he turns into Luke, mouths fusing together, and the night carries on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, finally starting to learn about Tony’s medical issues. This is not the end—it’s a relatively long road with him medically, but it’s an interesting one, and it presents a lot of moments between our boys. I’m curious as to how you guys are taking to Luke. It’s been—fun might be the right word, but I’m not sure—something of a roller coaster with his character, but it’s also been kind of interesting exploring him. He is not modeled after Luke Cage, he’s just an original character, though keep an eye out because there are plenty of Marvel characters that pop in and out. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

The month of September starts to fade away, and, by the time October rolls around, Steve and Tony have started to find a rhythm.  Every other weekend, they either host a party or go looking for one.  On their off weekends, they get high and watch a fuckton of movies.  Tony starts to have a _side_ on Steve’s bed, and Steve starts to not really care.

 

He’s slowly unraveling Tony, figuring him out until he understands that Tony is a little bit broken and likes to cling to people like life rafts, so he learns how to be something solid and constant in Tony’s life.  He’s not so sure about the things he thinks he knows now, but he does know better than to ask too many questions—the one time he did, Tony didn’t speak to him for three days.

 

Steve starts dating Sharon toward the end of September, and Tony keeps sleeping with Luke even though Sharon warns him that he’s dangerous, that he has a girlfriend, and isn’t looking for anything but sex with Tony, which Tony assures her is the only thing he’s looking for, as well.

 

Steve and Tony keep up their physical activity, going to the gym together five days a week, yoga usually every day.  Tony starts working on Steve’s core so he can start teaching him various stands.

 

And then, just over a month since they met, they have a long weekend, so they’re both going home.  They’re on their way back from class when Tony’s phone starts ringing, and it’s been long enough since the last time Tony talked to his father that Steve is again surprised by the way Tony straightens and answers in a respectful and even voice, “Hello, father.”

 

“Anthony,” Howard says shortly, “I thought you said your class ended at three.”

 

“It does, but sometimes gym runs a little late, and—”

 

“Don’t make excuses for your poor example of a university.  Where are you?”

 

“I’m almost back to the dormitory, dad, I’ll—” but the line goes dead, and Tony just sighs and puts his phone away.

 

“Everything okay?” Steve asks.

 

“Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Tony says, scanning his keycard and pulling open the front door.  They walk down the hall in silence, though Tony stiffens when they come around the corner and Howard is standing by their door, talking quietly on his phone.  Tony straightens, shoulders rolling back and head level as he walks steadily down the hall, waiting for Howard to notice him.  When he does, he barely glances at him before he’s continuing his conversation.  Steve frowns as Tony lets them in, not saying hello.  Howard follows them in, and Tony quietly goes about getting his things together.

 

“Shouldn’t you have packed before?” Howard says suddenly, and Tony nods.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

 

“Look at me when you speak, Anthony.”

 

Tony turns.  “I’m sorry, father.”

 

“Continue.”  He turns, looking Steve over.  “And you are?” he asks.

 

“Steve Rogers,” Steve introduces, stepping forward and holding out a hand.  Howards nods appreciatively, shaking his hand.  “Tony and I are—”

 

“His name is Anthony, and I’ll thank you to use it.  Why you feel the need to shorten it is beyond me,” Howard says, releasing Steve’s hand and looking back to Tony, “Anthony is a strong name, and—”

 

“I know, dad, okay?” Tony sighs, slamming his suitcase shut.

 

They both stiffen at the same time, and it’s a moment of awful, thick silence before Howard turns his attention back to Steve.  “What are you majoring in, Stephen?”

 

“Art,” Steve says, trying to lighten the mood, “My focus is in charcoals right now, but I’m hoping to expand it with a few concentrations.”

 

“My wife is an artist,” Howard says, but it sounds sour.

 

Steve’s about to defend himself when his phone starts buzzing, and he goes to answer it gratefully.  “Hey dad,” he says, “Are you here?”

 

“Yeah, wanna let me in?”

 

“Sure, I’ll be right there,” and he hangs up.  “Hey, Tony, I’ll be right back, okay?”  He waits for Tony to look over and nod, and though he doesn’t want to leave him, is afraid something might happen, he does, though he walks quickly, hoping to get back before anything major goes down.

 

“An _art_ major?” Howard says, glaring at Tony’s back.

 

Tony takes a slow breath before turning, shrugging one shoulder.  “Dad, he’s—” he’s cut off as Howard’s hand comes around, catching him across the cheek, his head turning with the backhand.

 

“Do _not_ talk back to me again, do you understand?” Howard hisses, stepping closer.  Tony flinches back, lowering his eyes and nodding.  “Do you _understand_?” Howard raises his voice to his speaking level.

 

“Yes, sir.  I apologize.”

 

“Finish packing.  I’ll be in the car.”

 

Steve’s just coming around the corner when Howard leaves the room, and he forces himself to walk calmly.  When he gets to the room, Tony is zipping his backpack, and he turns, shouldering it.  “Dude,” Steve says, coming across the room and instinctually reaching for Tony, who tries to step away, but Steve’s fingers curl around his jaw, tilting his head up.  “What the hell, Tony?” he gasps, staring at the awful red mark on Tony’s face.

 

“It’s nothing,” Tony mutters, pulling out of his touch.

 

“What happened?” Joe asks as he comes up behind Steve.

 

“It’s nothing,” Tony tries to say again, but Steve is shaking his head, and he knows what’s going to happen because it’s happened before, and he’s so afraid.  “Steve, really, it’s—”

 

“Did he hit you, Tony?”

 

“Who?” Joe says, getting ready to leave.

 

“No, it was just—”

 

“Don’t make excuses for your father,” Steve says, his frown deepening, “It’s not okay.  The way he treats you is awful, and I was only in the room for a few minutes.  Tony—”

 

“Where is he?” Joe asks, heading for the door.

 

“Please, don’t,” Tony says, panic settling in the pit of his stomach, “You’ll just make it worse.”

 

Joe stops immediately, turning and frowning as Steve stares at Tony.  “Tony—”

 

“Just leave it alone,” Tony mutters, reaching for his suitcase and hauling it off the bed.  He grabs his duffel, throws it over his shoulder, and pulls out the handle of his suitcase.  “I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he says before he’s gone, and Steve just watches him go, unsure how to proceed.

 

“That was really the kid we met on your first day?” Joe asks, looking over at Steve.

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, shaking his head and going to pack, “He’s—he’s something else, but I’ve never seen that side of him.  Sometimes I think he might have multiple personalities or something.”

 

Joe shrugs, going over to drop on Steve’s bed.  “Do you like living with him, though?” Joe asks.

 

“Yeah, he’s actually really cool,” Steve says, smiling, “We get along really well.  I didn’t think I was going to end up liking him, but he’s really interesting even if he’s kind of a brat sometimes.”

 

“I’m glad,” Joe says, “I hated my roommate in college, and it was absolute hell.  Your mom told me you started dating some girl named Sharon recently?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, his smile turning into a grin, “She’s awesome, dad.  Her twin sister lives down the hall.  She left yesterday, though.  Hey, do the girls have the weekend off, too?”

 

“They are _so_ excited to see you, kiddo.  They’ve been talking about you coming home all week.”  Steve just laughs and hurries to finish packing.

 

——

 

The drive home is about an hour, and, for the first half, Howard drives in silence until Tony shifts in his seat, leaning his head against the window, and he snaps, “I can’t _believe_ you treated me like that in front of your roommate.  If you think I won’t discipline you just because your _friend_ is there, think again, Anthony.”

 

“Dad—”

 

“I will take you back to school!  Do not interrupt me again!”

 

“Yes, sir,” Tony whispers.

 

“You’ve made it very inconvenient not being prepared to leave on time,” Howard says, “Your mother and I are hosting a party tonight, and you will be expected to stay upstairs.  I do not want to have to explain why that _university_ is giving a long weekend, so you will be invisible until tomorrow.  Your mother will be working in her studio tomorrow, so you are not to bother her, do you understand?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“You and I will speak about your progress at school before you go back.  I’ll let you know when I am available.  This weekend is not an opportunity for you to fall behind on your work.  I expect you to study diligently while you’re home.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

And they don’t speak for the rest of the ride home.  When they finally do arrive at the Stark mansion, Tony tries to move slowly, getting his things and walking casually to the front door, but his mom is standing there, waiting, and he breaks into a run, suitcase rattling along behind him.  It drops to the ground when he reaches her, duffle falling to his feet before he hurries into her open arms.  “I missed you so much, mom,” he whispers, burrowing against her.

 

“Oh baby,” she coos, squeezing him tightly, “It’s so good to see you again.”  She threads a hand through his hair, fingers stroking lightly against his head.  When they pull away, she cups his face and starts to smile when she notices the faded mark on his cheek.

 

“Mom, no,” he whispers, but she’s already dropping his face and stepping around him and into Howard’s path.

 

“Maria,” Howard says coolly.

 

“Did anyone see you hit him?” she demands.

 

“No,” Howard says, his voice uncertain.

 

“Tony, don’t look.”

 

“Mom—”

 

Howard’s head turns with the slap, Maria’s hand whistling through the air, and he starts to round on her when she grabs his rising wrist and erupts, “The next time you lay hands on my son at that school, I will lay hands on you in front of _all_ our guests!  The next time you lay hands on my son _at all_ , I will go to the police!  Tony finally has the chance to escape you, and you will _not_ jeopardize that opportunity!”  Howard’s mouth opens as he starts to yell, but Maria cuts him off, “Scream at me!  I welcome it!  Hit me if you have to, but do _not_ touch _my_ son again!”  Silence settles between them, thick and terrifying, until Maria turns and says, her voice soft and careful, “Tony, why don’t you take your things upstairs?  I’ll call you down when dinner is ready.”

 

“He—”

 

“He will have dinner, or I will attend the party in my painting smock.”

 

Howard’s jaw tightens, and he holds Maria’s glare a moment longer before yanking his hand from her grip and stalking into the house.

 

“Thank you,” Tony whispers before he goes to pick up his duffle and suitcase, “You shouldn’t have, though.  It’s just going to hurt more.”

 

He’s nearly at the door when Maria says, “I’ll understand if you want to stay at school for your next break.”

 

Tony pauses, and then turns, shaking his head.  “I can’t leave you alone with him.  I don’t _want_ to leave you alone with him.  I miss you, mom.”

 

Maria smiles sadly, coming over to him.  “I miss you, too, sweetie,” she says, pressing a kiss to his temple before they go inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn’t the typical characterization of Maria, but I’ve decided to take some liberties and let her be awesome because I feel like Tony needs that, so, yes, I know she’s out of character, but she’s going to be like that for the whole story because I accidentally fell in love with her, so. Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying her characterization because I certainly I am—I adore her.
> 
> In other news, I’ve been spending my entire break watching _Shameless_ , the US version, and _oh my god I love this show_. I never want to stop watching it. I’m on season three already, and I want to watch it all over again as soon as I’m done. And _oh_ , the fanfiction I shall read when I’m done watching. In other writing news, I have come full circle. During their freshman year, there’s some big happenings during Thanksgiving break, and I’ve just wrapped up the same break sophomore year, and it seems to be a pattern. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	6. Chapter 6

A high squeal echoes through the Rogers’ house as Joe pulls up in the driveway.  “ _Mom_!” Emma screeches, scrambling off the sill at the bay window and running through the house, bare feet slapping against the wood floor.  She’s the littlest of the Rogers’, at eight, and she’s got little blonde pigtails and bright blue eyes.  She barrels through the front door, bouncing up and down as two sets of feet thunder down the stairs.  Riley, thirteen, has dark blonde hair that hangs in a bob around her shoulders, and Leah, sixteen, has long, _long_ blonde hair that’s braided down her back, swaying at her waist, and they both reach the doorway just as Joe is getting out.  Emma starts cheering when Steve gets out, and he laughs, coming around as they run out of the house, all jumping on him.  He squeezes them all tightly, laughing as they start chattering a mile a minute.

 

“Guys, come on,” Joe says, opening the trunk, “Come help.”

 

“Go inside, mom has a surprise for you!” Emma shrieks before she runs over to the car.

 

Steve heads inside as instructed, and he groans as he approaches the kitchen.  “You’re amazing,” he says as he comes in, sniffing the air.

 

“Gotta keep my baby boy well fed,” Sara says, turning and holding out her arms.  Steve hugs her tightly, happy to be home and with his family again.  When she pulls back, Sara gives his butt a little slap and says, “Go set the table.”

 

Steve just shakes his head, smiling, and goes to do as he’s told.  Dinner is always loud in the Rogers’ household, and tonight is no exception.  The girls have a million and one questions, and Steve answers all dutifully before he starts quizzing them on their lives, though some of it’s superficial, and he knows that they’ll all sneak into his room later that night and sit up for the gory details.

 

After dinner, the girls take the dishes back to the kitchen while Sara promises desert, and she steals Joe to help.  The girls come back and chatter with Steve until their parents return with sundaes, and Emma starts cheering, bouncing in her seat.

 

“Calm down, lightning bug,” Steve says, nudging her under the table.

 

“Steve, _ice cream_!” she shrieks.

 

“Emma,” Sara says, though she’s fighting a smile.

 

After ice cream, Leah goes off to watch her shows, dragging Riley with her, and Emma goes to color with them.  Steve follows his parents into the kitchen as they wash the dishes by hand, a favorite pastime of theirs because it’s a moment that lets them just be together, the two of them, intimate in a way they can’t accomplish with so many children.

 

“So, how’s Tony?” Sara asks, and then frowns when Joe shakes his head.  “Did something happen?”  She turns, looking to Steve, who won’t meet her gaze.

 

“His father hit him while Steve was out of the room,” Joe says quietly, “When I offered to speak to him, Tony said it would only make things worse.  I think he’s being abused at home, Sara.”

 

“That poor boy,” she says, and then, “Where do they live?”

 

“ _Mom_ ,” Steve groans.

 

“It’s not right!” she exclaims, “He’s been so great to you, and I know he has his moments, but so does everyone, and you two are getting on so well.  He seems like a lovely young man from what you’ve told us, and it sickens me to think that his parents could do something like that.”

 

“I think it’s only his dad,” Steve says, “He actually has a pretty good relationship with his mom.”

 

“Well,” Sara sighs, “That’s good, at least.”  She’s quiet, turning back to the dishes, and it’s a few minutes before she says, “Steve, ask him over for break in November—for Thanksgiving.”

 

“Mom—”

 

“I doubt it’ll be any fun at his house, and your cousins aren’t coming over this year, so it’ll just be the six of us.”

 

“Mom—”

 

“I’ll ask him myself, Stephen.  That boy needs a loving home sometimes.  Ask him over for break, or I swear to god, I’ll break into your phone and find his number.”

 

“I find it’s better to just agree with her,” Joe murmurs.

 

“Yes, mom,” Steve says, and Sara just makes a triumphant noise and goes back to washing dishes.

 

——

 

That night, after Steve has stayed up for a while with Riley and Leah, they go off to bed, and Steve rolls out his yoga mat.  He’s just finished stretching when his phone starts buzzing, and he has half a mind to ignore it, but then he looks at the caller id, and he’s surprised to see Tony’s picture there.  It’s a facetime, too, so he balances it on the floor after he answers it, settling on his knees.

 

The call connects, and Steve laughs when Tony’s face is suddenly there, his nostrils tilted up and his lip pulled back over his front teeth.  “Ugly duck,” Steve mutters.

 

“Are you doing _yoga_?” Tony gasps dramatically, “Hold on, let me get my mat!”  He sets the phone down on the floor and then runs off.  Steve’s got a pretty good view of his room from here, and it’s _massive_ , nearly three times the size of their dorm room.  Tony goes off to the side, rummages around, and then unrolls the mat, stretching out while Steve waits.

 

They spend the next hour going through their routine, and then they’re moving into stand practice.  Tony’s walking Steve through a crow into a tripod, and it’s the first time Steve manages to make the transition successfully.  Tony lets out a cheer and then looks over toward his door, frowning.  “Everything okay?” Steve asks.

 

“Yeah, just—I’m playing Harry Potter tonight.  My father is hosting a party tonight, so I’m pretending not to be here.  Move back into crow.”  Steve slowly shifts his weight until he’s lifting his head again, feet still in the air, and Tony’s smile is wide and genuine when he holds it.  “Okay, hold on, let me get there.”  Tony moves fluidly into crow, curves down into a tripod, and then comes back.  “Now, I’m gonna walk you through it, it’ll be awesome.  Bring your legs up slowly, tucked in against you still, and start to straighten your arms.  Good, good.”  He moves with Steve until they’re in a half handstand.  “Alright, hard part.  Lift one leg at a time.”

 

There’s a knock on the door, and Steve takes a slow breath before calling, “Come in!”

 

The door opens as he gets both legs in the air, and Tony laughs, soft and excited.  “Dude, that’s awesome, you’re doing great.  Hold it, let it settle there, really sink into it.”

 

“Steve, what are you doing?” his mom asks.

 

“Hold on,” he mumbles, keeping his gaze fixed on his phone.  Tony is facing his phone, as well, so they can see each other while they’re doing the stand.

 

“Okay, ready?” Tony asks.

 

“We’ll see,” Steve says.

 

“Move slowly.  Breathe slowly.  Let your body be in tune with each of your movements.  Feel all of it all over.  When you’re ready, start to bring your legs apart, and go into shelf.”

 

Sara comes around until she can see the video call, as well, and she shakes her head, smiling, as Tony lets out a whoop and then goes into a graceful backbend.  “Steve, that looks great,” he says, coming up close to the screen, “Think you can roll out?”

 

“I can try,” Steve says, holding the pose for a few more seconds before he rocks his front leg back, and though his landing is a little harder, Tony still claps.

 

“I’m impressed.  That’s a lot of progress in one month.”

 

“What are you two doing?” Sara asks.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Rogers!” Tony sings.

 

“Yoga,” Steve says simply, “What’s up?”

 

“I just wanted to make sure you were all set for the night.  How are you doing, Tony, dear?”

 

“Good.  Glad to be home for the long weekend, Mrs. Rogers,” he says politely, smiling, “Though I do miss my dear roommate already.”

 

“Alright, you two,” Sara says, smiling, “I’ll leave you to it.  Don’t stay up too late,” she says, blowing Steve a kiss before she heads out again.

 

“What kind of party is it?” Steve asks when she’s gone and after they’ve rolled up their mats.

 

“Some stupid thing where they show off, probably.  They have them all the time.  My father will be gone tomorrow, though, so that’s awesome.  Hey, give me a tour of your room.  I’m demanding it, you can’t say no,” Tony says, flapping a hand at him before he’s padding across the room and dumping onto his bed.

 

“Too bad, I’m saying no,” Steve says, going to his bed, as well, “How’s being home?”

 

“Sucks,” Tony groans, kicking at his blankets.

 

“Just use your hands, idiot,” Steve says, shaking his head.

 

“You like to make everything so _complicated_ ,” Tony whines, and then, before Steve knows what’s happening, Tony’s pulling his knees up and taking his pants off, throwing them to the side.  He rolls up until he’s sitting, yanks his shirt off, and then grabs the blankets as he’s coming back down.

 

“Can you please warn me before you start getting naked next time?” Steve sighs.

 

“Why, wanna get ready for some _special time_?” Tony says with a wink.

 

“You’re so crude,” Steve says before he tosses his phone onto his pillow and gets ready for bed.  When he gets back, Tony’s all snuggled up and yawning, and he smiles, hunkering down.  “You actually going to sleep while you’re home?”

 

“Tell me a bedtime story, that always works,” Tony mumbles.

 

“Have I ever told you about my sisters?” Steve says, and Tony shakes his head, so Steve jumps in, just talking, his voice getting softer and softer until Tony’s snoring lightly, the call still up, and Steve doesn’t know what possesses him to do so, but he plugs his phone in and leaves the call going as he drifts off.

 

——

 

In the morning, Tony wakes up to a grunt and then, “ _Tony_.”

 

“It is definitely too early o’clock,” Tony groans.

 

Steve’s door bangs open, and he looks over blearily as Emma runs in and clambers up onto his bed, jumping on top of him and then rolling over.  “Hey, Em, wanna meet my roommate?”

 

“Is he _here_?” she gasps, and then, lowering her voice to a whisper, “Is he hiding?”

 

“No, he’s on the phone,” Steve says, lifting up his phone, “Tony, say hello to my little sister, Emma.”

 

“Hello, Emma,” Tony mumbles, voice muffled from the pillow.

 

Emma snatches the phone out of Steve’s hand, holding it with both of hers, and says, “Excuse me.  That is no way to greet a lady.”

 

Tony snorts and picks himself up, rolling onto his side and turning his phone.  “Good morning, Emma.  How are you today?”

 

“I’m very good, thank you.  What’s your name?”

 

“Stormageddon.”

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“I’m not,” Tony says, “Steve?”

 

“He’s not,” Steve says, shaking his head sagely.

 

Emma narrows her eyes and says, “How old are you?”

 

“A trillion and two,” Tony says before he turns his head away to yawn.

 

“You’re fibbing, that’s not even a number!” Emma shouts angrily, “Tell me the truth!”

 

“My name is Tony, and I am nineteen.  How old are you?”

 

“My name is Emma Jean, and I am eight years old and a quarter.  Do you know what that means?  It means a quarter of twelve months,” she answers for him.

 

“Yeah, how many months is that?”

 

Emma glares at him.  “Don’t ask me complicated questions.  Where are you, Tony?”

 

“At my house.  Where are you?”

 

“In Steve’s room!  I’m so happy he’s home.  Do you have any sisters?”

 

“Nope, no brothers, either.”

 

“That must be very lonely,” Emma says sadly before Steve takes the phone back.

 

“Go see if mom’s making breakfast,” he says, shooing her away.  Emma scrambles off the bed, shrieking about pancakes as she runs through the house.  “Hey,” Steve says when she’s gone.

 

“Hey yourself, handsome.”  Steve rolls his eyes as Tony winks at him.

 

“What are you doing today?” he asks, hoping to change the subject.

 

“Gonna hang out with my mom probably.  She has a studio.  I’ll have to send you pictures, you’d probably love it.”

 

“That sounds really cool,” Steve says before Emma starts yelling for him downstairs, “I gotta go, breakfast is ready.  I’ll talk to you later?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Tony says, smiling, “Toodle-doo, butt cheeks!”

 

Tony hangs up, and he feels more content than he has in a long time.  Though he’s got a raging boner right now, it’s kind of nice, just enjoying the quiet moments he and Steve get, and so he lazes in bed for a bit, just thinking about him, though that makes him think about _other things_ , things he’s desperate to see and get his hands on, and then he’s rolling out of bed to take a shower and jerk off.

 

When he eventually gets dressed and goes downstairs, his father is already gone, so he makes himself a small breakfast, doubles it up because his mom always forgets to eat, which is probably where he got it, and then finds a tray to carry everything on before he’s heading through the mansion.  He’s barefoot and in a pair of loose jeans with a soft, blue shirt, and his hair is still all mussed from sleep, but his mom still smiles brightly when he comes into the studio.  They eat breakfast together, and then, once Maria has settled back in front of her canvas, Tony curls up on the futon he dragged in there, lays out, and just starts talking because this is what they do, how they bond, and he never feels like he needs to be doing something with his hands when he’s with her because she exudes such calm and beauty.

 

“My classes are so amazing, mom, and I’m actually starting to learn stuff now, which is nice because we were reviewing some really basic stuff in the beginning, and it was awful.  Now, though, we’re getting into the good stuff, and I’ve been asking for extra work, so it’s even better.  I _love_ Italian, too, but I’m so excited to get into French next year.”

 

“That’s good.  How are your grades?” she asks because she knows Howard will later.

 

“Perfect, as expected,” Tony says, “But whatever.  It’s not about that, and I don’t care what dad says.  I’m actually enjoying myself there, and it’s nice, and I know you guys consider it a fluff school, but—”

 

“Sweetie, I don’t think it’s a fluff school,” Maria interrupts him, “I think it’s exactly what you needed before MIT and Harvard.  It’s going to help round you out as an individual and as a student.  I think it’s so wonderful you’ve got Steve, too.  Art majors are my personal favorites.”

 

“I think you might be biased,” Tony says, so Maria makes a face at him.  “How attractive, mom.”

 

“I don’t need your approval, _Cher_.  I know I’m beautiful.”

 

“You are,” Tony says, smiling fondly.

 

Maria flashes him a smile and keeps working.  “So, tell me about Steve.”

 

“Mom,” he sighs, “I really like him.”  She makes a small noise, and Tony rolls his eyes.  “No, I really do.  Like—mom, he’s so adorable.  He does this thing, when he thinks I’m asleep, and I know he’s just checking to make sure I’m not awake, but he always puts his hand under my nose, like to see if I’m breathing or whatever, and it’s just sweet, and I want to tell him how much I appreciate it, but I don’t want it to seem weird, and he already thinks I’m weird enough.  He’s doing so well on his stands, too, in yoga.  He managed to do a shelf stand last night when we facetimed.  And, like, whenever I’m bored, he always stops whatever he’s doing and entertains me, and it’s not even entertaining because sometimes it’s just watching a movie, or practicing new moves we’ve looked up, or even just firing off a series of words because he knows I like defining things.  And okay, one time, I had a really bad migraine, like, worse than they usually are, and I was hiding in the closet because it’s cold and dark in there, and he made me come out and lie on the bed with him, and he played with my hair and ran ice cubes over my face and played rain music, and no one has ever done things like that for me before, and I just really like him, mom.”

 

When he finishes, Maria is staring at him with a wide smile.  “Tony,” she says, and he hides, rolling onto his front and covering his face.  “Darling, I think you have a crush on him.”

 

“I do _not_ ,” he whines.

 

“Don’t be petulant.  Tell me about your friends.”

 

He launches into talking about Betty and Bruce immediately, and he’s halfway through talking about how he’s been working his moves on Bruce when his mom interrupts and says, “Sweetheart, please don’t break them up.”

 

“Mom,” Tony says, appalled, “That is the _last_ thing I want to do.  That’s not even _close_ to being on my agenda.  I want them to stay together forever and get married and have beautiful, scientific babies, and I want to be Betty’s maid of honor and their first son’s godfather, and okay, so maybe I’d like to have a threesome with them, but not if it jeopardizes their relationship.”

 

“ _Tony_ ,” Maria sighs.

 

“What, I thought you liked our open relationship.”

 

“Please don’t talk to me about your sexual conquests.  Speaking of, is there anyone you’re interested in right now?”

 

“I mean,” Tony shrugs, “There’s this guy, Luke, that I’ve been seeing a little, but it’s nothing special.  But the lesbians, mom.”

 

“It’s not nice to refer to them like that, Tony.”

 

“I’m not even sure Pepper’s a lesbian, but I think she’s into Peggy, so maybe she’s got just a thing for her.  _I_ think Tonysexual should be a real term.”

 

“ _Tony_.”

 

“I love you!” he sings, and Maria just laughs and shakes her head.

 

Tony spends the rest of his day in there, just chatting away.  He ends up taking a nap while his mom makes lunch, and then they go out onto the patio and spend their afternoon outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having a really shitty day, so I’ve decided to put this up early in the hopes that some of you will see this today and leave lovely comments. I adore your comments, too, I really do. They make me smile so much every time I see one, and I can’t help but flail a little and rush to respond in usually too much detail, whoops.
> 
> I do have some news, though, regarding my writing. I saw _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ last night—don’t worry, I’m not about to spoil it—which was out of this world amazing, and something I didn’t expect happened. Typically, when a new Marvel film comes out, my muse goes insane, and I’m left scrambling around trying to get everything written before it filters out again. I didn’t really think it would happen this time because I’m already in the middle of this college au, which I’m head over heels in love with, and so I thought, you know, whatever, I’ll just keep writing that. And then, _and then_ , Steve and Bucky. I’ve always just thought of them as best friends, and though I can definitely see the romantic drive, I’ve never really given thought to actually writing about them. Of course, as you can see in the tags, they do date in this eventually, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, while I was walking Maverick—I have a one-year-old black lab that is my entire life, and I adore his handsome little self—my brain jumped into overdrive and punched out the first few opening scenes of a fic. And so, I come to you guys saying that there is a possibility of a post CA:TWS fic that will be about Steve helping Bucky be Bucky again. I don’t want to give away too many details for a few reasons—a, I don’t want to spoil the movie; b, I don’t want to let it get too out of hand before I start writing it; c, sometimes, I get these wild ideas, and then I never actually do anything with them. Thinking on that, though, would anyone be interested in that? Give me a holler, and hopefully I’ll get to working on it soon.
> 
> In the meantime, don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. Let’s talk about acroyoga! I think we’re all fairly aware that I’m infatuated with yoga. I’ve been practicing for over two years, and I’ve just begun working more with my core this semester, in January, and it’s been a really amazing and beautiful experience. I hadn’t heard of acroyoga until the end of February, but, when I did, I knew, immediately, that the next time I wrote about Bruce and Betty together, they needed to do it together. The routine they do in this chapter is pretty much copied from [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nL4kfGpa5E8) because I think it’s one of the most intimate and exquisite things I’ve ever seen, and just imaging them doing that nearly brought me to tears, so I had to include it. I’d also like to take this moment to apologize for just how much yoga is in this, but I really love it, and I’ve been including it more and more in my fanfictions with these guys because I think it just fits so well, and it was a nice thing for Steve and Tony to bond over, but I understand if you get annoyed by some of the terminology, and I’m sorry for that. I get a little overexcited when I’m talking about it.
> 
> ii. This is a music note! My favorite— _favorite_ ¬—Stiles and Lydia song from Teen Wolf is [Start of Time by Gabrielle Aplin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWcGtLblBxs), and that’s what I listened to while writing Bruce and Betty’s acroyoga.

“Tuesday is too long,” Tony says as soon as Steve answers the phone.

 

“Dude, we’re like ten minutes away, _why_ are you calling me again?” Steve whines into the phone.

 

“Because I’m bored and I’m not there yet, that’s why.”

 

“I thought you were there?”

 

“No, I lied because I was bored.  Ten minutes, really?  Mom, how close are we?” he asks, looking over at Maria.

 

“About ten.  Will Steve be there soon?”

 

“Around the same time.  Oh my god, you can see his shoulders.  Mom.  _Mom_.  They’re amazing.  Steve.  _Steve_.  I love your shoulders.”

 

“I know, Tony,” Steve says before he hangs up.

 

Steve gets there first, and Sara helps him take his things back to his room, setting him to unpacking his backpack while she puts away his clothes.  They hear Tony before they see him, talking so fast it’s hard to understand him, and then the door is opening, and he’s making this aborted squeaking noise.  “ _Steve_!” he shrieks, and then launches himself across the room.

 

Steve laughs when Tony lands on him, staggering as he tries to remain upright.  He starts to just pat him on the back and step away, but Tony’s not letting go, so he gives him a real hug, and he realizes, all at once, just how much he missed him.

 

“Tony, stop being a queen,” Maria says as she lets the door close and brings his duffle over to his bed.

 

“Whatever, Sonny,” he mutters, sticking his tongue out at her before he goes to dump his backpack on the floor.  “Oh!  Steve, this is the beautiful, the dashing, the fantastically wonderful Maria Stark,” he introduces, bowing and flourishing in her direction.

 

“Oh, please,” she says, tugging on his hair, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Steve.”  She shakes hands with him, smiling widely, “Tony’s told me so much about you.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Stark,” Steve says, a little taken aback by how charming and kind she is.

 

“Maria, please, dear.  Mrs. Stark is a woman I never pretend to be.  And you must be Sara?”

 

“A pleasure,” Sara says, coming forward, “Steve told me you were an artist.  We’ve been trying so hard to get our girls to follow in his footsteps, but they’re all going in such different directions.”

 

“You have daughters, as well?” Maria asks, lighting up, and then neither of them are helping unpack, but instead chatting quietly together, Sara showing off pictures of the girls, which of course means Maria digs out her phone and pulls up a baby picture of Tony.  They laugh and get to know each other as Tony and Steve shrug and finish their unpacking.

 

When all is said and done, Maria says, “We should go out for lunch sometime,” and so they exchange numbers before saying their goodbyes to their sons.

 

Steve hugs his mom, making a face when she leans up to kiss his cheek.  “You be good,” she says, pointing at him, and then, lowering her voice, “And look after him.  I love you, sweetie.”

 

“I love you, too, mom,” he says, giving her a small wave as she turns away.

 

Maria hugs Tony tightly, one hand cradling his head and the other braced against his back, holding him against her.  “Call me for anything,” she whispers as Tony presses his face against her shoulder and just breathes her in, “I’ll try to arrange it so that I can come pick you up next time, but you know how your father is.  And don’t worry about him, Tony.  He’s not enough of a man that I can’t handle him.”

 

“Mom,” he says, his voice trembling a little as she steps back, hands coming up to curl around his jaw, thumbs stroking his cheeks.

 

“You’ll be okay,” she whispers, leaning up to kiss his forehead.  “Study hard, don’t get on Steve’s nerves, stop pestering Bruce, and call me more often, or I’m going to install a reminder with Jarvis.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, smiling softly, “Be careful, okay?  Just—try to stay away from him.”

 

“Don’t worry about me, sweetie,” she says, dropping her hands to his and squeezing them.  “I love you, Cher.”

 

“I love you, too, Sonny,” Tony murmurs.

 

Maria stays a moment longer before nodding and leaving, and Steve lets Tony have a moment, just standing there staring at the door.  When he finally turns and sits at his desk, Steve frowns and says, “You okay?”

 

“No,” Tony mutters, opening his laptop.

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

“He doesn’t hit her when I’m there,” Tony says, his voice sharp and hard, “He always takes it out on me, and I don’t care, but when they’re alone—I’m so afraid he’s going to hurt her someday, worse than usual.  I’m so afraid I’m going to lose her, and it’s going to be _his_ fault.”

 

Steve doesn’t know what to say, so he just comes over and sits on Tony’s bed, giving his chair a kick when he ignores him.  “Wanna play a board game?” he asks when Tony finally looks at him.  It takes a moment, but Tony eventually gives in, nodding.

 

——

 

Wednesdays are long days.

 

Tony’s already up when Steve’s alarm goes off at seven, but he’s plugged in, typing away furiously at his laptop, so Steve doesn’t bother him while he gets dressed and heads out for his morning run.  When he gets back, Tony is gone.

 

He stops by Betty and Bruce’s room around seven thirty, smiling when Betty opens the door.  “Let me just grab my stuff,” she says softly, and Tony nods, following her in.  Bruce is still in bed, the blankets pooled in the small of his back, and Betty goes to him, leaning down to kiss his shoulder.  “I’ll see you after class.  I love you,” she whispers.

 

Bruce hums, tilting his head up, and Betty smiles, kissing him on the mouth.  “I love you, too,” he mumbles before dropping his head back down.

 

Betty grabs her jacket, Tony takes her backpack, and they head out.  She’s trying desperately to hang onto the warm weather, and so she’s wearing a white lace dress over brown tights, and Tony smiles as she pulls on her brown, leather jacket.  “Stop ogling me,” she accuses, flicking his nose before she takes her backpack.

 

“You look lovely today, as always,” Tony says, and Betty makes a face at him.

 

“So, how was break?” she asks as they head down the hall and out the front door.

 

“It sucked.  You know how it is.”

 

“Did something happen?” she asks, frowning.

 

“Not there, no, but,” Tony trails off, shrugging.

 

“Tony,” Betty sighs, “You can’t let this go on.”

 

“It’s been going on my whole life, what am I really supposed to do?” he mutters, looking both ways before they cross the street.

 

“Well,” Betty says, shaking her head, “How was seeing your mother, at least?”

 

“Fantastic,” Tony says, brightening, “We spent most of the weekend in her studio.  I miss her, Betty.  I’m so worried about her.”

 

“I know.”  Betty reaches over, taking Tony’s hand, and he just smiles at her and laces their fingers together.

 

“How was your weekend?” he asks as they continue down the street, walking close together.

 

“Boring,” she huffs dramatically, “You know Bruce is in much the same situation as you, but at least you have your mother, whereas his is pretty much checked out all the time, and his father hates me because I hate him, so we didn’t talk over break.  It was really great seeing my sister, but my parents were away at a conference, so it really would have just been better if we’d stayed here.”

 

“You should move out, get an apartment with Bruce,” Tony says, giving her hand a small squeeze.

 

“As should you, with your mother.”  Tony doesn’t respond, instead stares straight ahead, and Betty sighs.  “I’m sorry.  That was rude.”

 

“No, I—I get it.  I wish we could.”  He’s quiet for a few moments before, “How’s your sister?”

 

“She’s good.  Sick of being pregnant, which I think pretty much everyone in my house is, though I can’t wait until she has the baby.  She’s going to be so adorable, and I get to be an aunt!” she exclaims, grinning.  She releases Tony’s hand as they reach their building, and they go inside, taking the stairs down into the basement where their biology lab is located.  “Hey,” Betty says after they’ve taken their seats, “How are things going with Luke?”

 

Tony shrugs one shoulder.  “It really isn’t anything beyond fuck buddies, to be honest.”

 

“Of course,” Betty says, rolling her eyes, “And Steve?”

 

“God,” Tony groans, “He’s really a—he’s a fucking challenge is what he is.”

 

“Have you considered the idea that he might just be straight?”

 

“Betty.  _Betty_.  You didn’t see him that night at the party.”

 

“Which one?” she asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

 

“I didn’t _tell you_?” Tony whispers, leaning toward her.

 

“No, what happened?”

 

“Oh my god.”  Tony grins.  “Betty, he’s got such a thing for me, and it’s beautiful.  He was being an asshat, so I danced with him, and I’ll spare you the gory details, but I do believe he has a nice cock.”

 

“Okay, that’s pretty much the gory details,” Betty says, smacking Tony and shaking her head, though she’s smiling.

 

“We facetimed over the weekend, too.  Fell asleep on the phone, woke up still on the phone.”

 

“Shut up, really?”  When Tony nods, Betty makes a small noise.  “Tony, that’s what me and Bruce do.”

 

“I’m telling you, I’m going to break him.  Everyone is Tonysexual,” he says, pretending to flip his hair over his shoulder, and Betty just laughs.

 

——

 

Everyone gets together for lunch at twelve, and then Steve and Tony are heading out for the gym.  “So Betty’s asked us if we can come play dummy audience for them tonight,” Tony says when they’re in the changing room, getting ready for class, “I guess they have some presentation coming up on something called acroyoga.”

 

“I’ve never heard of it,” Steve says, pulling off his shirt.  Tony starts to respond, and then gets caught up, just watching the play of muscles as Steve reaches in for his gym shirt.  “Stop staring at me, Tony,” he mutters.

 

“Can’t, sorry.  It’s physically impossible for me to comprehend anything when you’re naked,” Tony manages to say, gaze shifting lower to Steve’s stomach, humming appreciatively at the line of his abs.

 

Steve’s shirt comes down suddenly, he punches Tony’s shoulder, and then says, “Fine, see how you like it.”  Tony looks up, confused, but then Steve closes his locker and leans against it, staring at Tony, whose confusion turns into a wicked grin.

 

He reaches for the hem of his shirt, arms crossing over his front, and then he tugs his shirt up and over, making sure to stretch his arms up, letting everything tighten before he’s tossing it into his locker.  Steve’s jaw tightens, and Tony’s grin just slides wider as he reaches for his jeans, slowly undoing them and pushing them down.  “Tony,” Steve says, gaze flicking up to meet Tony’s eyes, and Tony’s breath catches.

 

The door to the locker room opens, and the spell is broken.  Steve turns away abruptly, shaking his head, and he says, a little breathless, “I’ll see you out there,” before he disappears, and Tony just stares into his locker, waiting for Steve to leave before he throws his jeans inside and angrily puts on his gym clothes.

 

——

 

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t make a thing out of it.  After he throws a small tantrum and doesn’t talk to Tony for the first half of their class, he sighs and slows to a jog when they’re going around the track, nudging him.  “Shut up,” he says, and Tony smiles.

 

When they finish up, they head back to the room and unroll their mats.  They have to work in yoga whenever they can on Wednesdays because Tony has a late class, and so they usually do it right after gym, before dinner.

 

It’s nearing four o’clock when they finish up with the routine, and Tony pesters Steve until he agrees to do stand practice for a few minutes.  Tony gets Steve into a handstand, tells him to hold a shelf for a bit, and then works himself into a scorpion, though something’s not quite right as his legs sink back, his chest rolling forward a little.  He’s barely in it for half a minute before his shoulder is on fire, and he starts swearing, “Shit, fuck—damn it, _balls_.  Steve,” he gasps, and Steve comes out of his shelf stand messily, but quickly.  He scrambles to his feet, pulling Tony’s legs up and over so he won’t hurt himself coming out wrong.  Tony sags down into a child’s pose, trembling a little.

 

Steve sits next to him, waiting.  When Tony finally inhales audibly and slowly sits, Steve quirks an eyebrow.  “You okay?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tony says, lifting his right hand to press against the front of his shoulder before he starts to rotate it.  He stops halfway, a small cry falling from his mouth as his arm sags back down.

 

“May I?” Steve asks, hands lifting.

 

Tony nods, shifting into lotus.  Steve applies pressure in different areas around Tony’s shoulder until Tony whines, and then he starts working out the kink, fingers moving deftly over his tight muscles.  He tips Tony’s head to the side with a careful finger against his jaw, and then presses his thumb down the line of his neck.  Tony’s eyes roll into the back of his head as Steve continues to massage his shoulder, and they get lost in each other, Steve’s hands getting softer and slower until really he’s just touching, lingering.

 

Betty knocks as she’s coming in, and Steve quickly pulls his hands away, jerking out of some kind of reverie as Tony groans.  “ _Betty_ ,” he whines, and she laughs.

 

“Come on, cuties, dinner time,” she says, leaning against the wall with one hip cocked out.  Bruce comes up behind her, arms sliding around her waist as he drops his chin onto her shoulder, and they stand like that, waiting for Steve and Tony to get ready.

 

After dinner, Tony has electrical engineering, so he buggers off while Steve settles in to start his homework.  He’s halfway through when his phone buzzes, and he looks over to find a text from Sharon sitting there, _hey, you busy?_

_No, what’s up?_ he types back.

 

_Is Tony there?_

Steve stares at the question for a few seconds, not blinking, and then he’s quickly typing, _no, just me_ , and then he’s jumping up to tidy a little bit, throwing his dirty clothes into his closet.  He sits at his desk again when he’s done, and Sharon doesn’t live far, but it feels like full days are ticking by with each minute until, finally, there’s a knock on the door, and Steve can’t stop the grin that forms as he goes to answer it.  “Hey,” he says, and Sharon’s got a matching grin.

 

“Hey yourself, handsome,” she says, coming in and closing the door.  She locks it, and Steve stares down at her, his body thrumming with energy, just wanting to be as close to her as possible, and then Sharon comes forward, pinning him against the wall as she kisses him.  Steve wraps his arms around her, pressing her closer, kissing her deeper.

 

They break apart so Sharon can tear out of her jacket, and then Steve’s grabbing at her again, lifting her into the air.  Sharon lets out a little shout, laughing afterward, and they barely make it to the bed before she’s tugging at Steve’s shirt, trying to get him out of it.  They tumble together, Steve grinning and Sharon still laughing, and Steve mouths down her neck, biting her when she won’t stop laughing, and then she’s gasping, and Steve’s yanking her jeans open and down.

 

He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed her, but now he can’t seem to stop touching her, hands flitting over Sharon’s body as she arches into his touches, breaths coming out in short, little gasps until Steve’s sliding a hand beneath her panties, and Sharon’s curling a hand over his shoulder, staring up at him with a slack mouth.  When she comes, Steve presses his face against her neck, closing his eyes and just breathing her in.  “Steve,” she moans, fingers curling in his hair, “I want you inside of me.”

 

“Fuck,” he groans, mouthing up along to her jaw and then kissing her.  He rolls over onto his back, shucking off his jeans, and Sharon hurries to do the same, getting rid of the rest of her clothes and throwing them to the side.  Steve starts to get back up, but Sharon rolls up and over, straddling his waist and rocking against him.  Steve groans, low in his throat, head tipping back.  “Sharon,” he murmurs, and she stays a few seconds longer before she’s reaching for his desk drawer, pulling it open and reaching in for a condom.  She opens it, slides it on, and then sinks onto him, moaning as he fills her.

 

They move slowly together for a few minutes, but it’s been a while since they were together, and Steve wants more, so he flips them, hooking one of her legs up over his shoulder and quickening his thrusts until Sharon is bowing into him and crying out.

 

Tony has class until nine, and it’s barely six when Steve and Sharon find themselves curled together, naked under the blankets.  “When does Tony get back?” Sharon asks quietly, content to just lie with Steve, head resting on his chest as he runs a hand along her arm.

 

“Nine.”

 

Sharon grins, kissing Steve’s chest.  “Good,” she says, leaning up to kiss him before she’s scooting down, pulling the blankets with her, and Steve lets out a hard breath when she takes his cock in mouth, slowly bring him to hardness again.

 

They spend the night like that, fused together until, three hours and nearly four rounds later, Sharon is trembling, trying to catch her breath as Steve holds her close.  “I need to shower,” she murmurs, and Steve nods.  “I’ll be quick,” she says, getting up and kissing him softly before she pads naked across the room, pulls on one of Steve’s shirts, steals his flip flops and his shower caddy, and heads out of the room.

 

Steve lies there, eyes closed and still breathing a little hard, and he forgets that he’s naked, on top of the blankets, when the door opens.  “Hey, that was quick,” he says, looking over, and Tony’s just _staring_ at him.

 

“You’ve been busy,” Tony says, eyes raking over him and lingering on his dick.

 

“Damn it, Tony!” Steve yells, scrambling to get under the blankets, “What the hell, man?”

 

“It’s nine fifteen,” he says, closing the door and coming in, “Sharon been over?  Or still here,” he adds, noticing her clothes, “Don’t worry, I’ll disappear.”

 

“Tony, no, it’s—”

 

Tony lifts a hand, and Steve falls quiet, watching him shuck his backpack and grab his laptop and notebook.  “Don’t forget, we promised Betty and Bruce we’d watch their presentation tonight,” he says before he’s gone, and Steve doesn’t know why, but he feels like he’s let him down somehow.

 

Sharon comes back a few minutes later, and she starts to take off Steve’s shirt and come back over to him when she notices his frown.  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

 

“Nothing,” he mumbles, getting out of bed and pulling on his boxer briefs.  He takes his caddy from Sharon, steals his flip flops back, and leaves.  He showers quickly, and, when he gets back, Sharon is dressed and sitting cross-legged on his bed, flipping through one of his books.  “I have to go help some friends with something,” he says, putting his things away, “I’m glad I got to see you tonight, though.”

 

“You’re kicking me out?” Sharon asks, putting down the book, “Steve, I was kind of hoping we could spend the night together.”

 

“Well, I mean—Tony does live here.”

 

“So what?” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, “It’s not like we’ll fuck while he’s in the room.  Come on, I haven’t seen you in almost a week.”

 

“I promised I’d help them,” he says, shrugging one shoulder, “I’m sorry.”  Sharon shakes her head, getting up and storming over to the door, yanking on her shoes.  “Sharon, come on, don’t be like this,” he sighs, turning to her, “I want to spend the night with you, too, but they’re my friends.”

 

“Let me guess, Betty and Bruce, right?”  When Steve nods, she scoffs, shaking her head again.  “They’re not _your_ friends, they’re Tony’s friends that he threw at you, the same way he keeps throwing himself at you.  Why won’t you just admit you have a thing for him and stop dragging me around?”

 

“Sharon,” he says sharply, his expression one of disbelief, “That’s so off base.  I’m not—dragging you around.  I really like you, or can you not see that?”

 

She pauses with her jacket in hand, not looking at him.  “It’s not fair,” she says quietly, “We didn’t talk over the weekend, and I haven’t seen you since Thursday, and I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

 

Steve sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair.  “Okay,” he says, “I’m sorry.  I’ll just—I won’t go.  Tony can help them anyway.  He’s better at it than I am, so they don’t really need me.”

 

“Are you sure?” she asks, looking over at him.

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’m sure.  I want to spend time with you, too.  Come here.”

 

Sharon pauses a moment and then nods, smiling, taking her shoes off again and going back to him.  Steve pulls her against him, holding her there, and though he means to just let himself get lost in her, in the feel of her against him, he can’t stop feeling like he’s making a mistake.

 

——

 

Around nine thirty, Tony shrugs and says, “I don’t think he’s coming.  Sharon’s over, and he was pretty naked when I walked in.”

 

“By _pretty_ naked, you mean?” Bruce asks, lifting an eyebrow.

 

“I got to see his dick finally, so that’s a plus,” Tony says, though he doesn’t seem exceptionally pleased about that.

 

“I’m sorry, dude,” Bruce says, surprising Tony and Betty.  “What?” he says, making a face at Betty, “I’m allowed to be nice to him, too.”

 

“Does that mean—”

 

“No,” Bruce cuts Tony off, returning his gaze to him, “But keep working on it.”

 

Tony grins and says, “Good enough for me.  So, what’s acroyoga, and why are you giving a presentation on it?”

 

Betty brightens up, straightening before she says, “It’s like partner yoga, and we hadn’t originally had any plans to be doing a presentation of any sorts, but the head of the PE department heard us talking about it because we’ve been working on a new routine, and she thought it would be cool for people practicing yoga to see what the next level is, pretty much.”

 

“Okay, sounds good to me,” Tony says, scooting back until his back is resting against the wall, his legs tucked under him.  “Get to it,” he says when neither of them move, kicking Bruce’s thigh.

 

“We just have to change and stretch first.  Ready?” she asks, looking at Bruce.  He nods, so they get off the bed and get changed.  Betty laughs when Tony whistles when she unrolls her mat because she’s only wearing a dark green half shirt over her black bra, her legs bare but for small, black shorts.  Bruce changes into a pair of tight, black shorts, shifts Betty’s mat into the middle of the room, and then they start stretching.

 

Tony loves watching them do anything together, even stretching.  They do some moves apart from each other, but a lot of them are together, pulling each other in opposite directions, and it’s like a dance between them.

 

When they’re finished, they stand together, facing each other, arms by their sides but palms pressed together, and they breathe together, chests and stomachs rising and falling until Bruce is leaning down, kissing Betty softly.  He hums, just a small, quiet noise shared between them, and Betty smiles.  And then, it begins.

 

They both fold over into backbends at the same time, knees rubbing together until Bruce rocks backward, and slowly lowers himself down, legs coming together between Betty’s spread feet.  She takes a slow breath and walks her feet backward, bringing them close to her hands before she kicks up, coming out of the bend so that she’s standing at Bruce’s feet.  He spreads his arms out on either side, and Betty comes into a down dog, thumbs brushing against his ribs before she walks in and comes up, curling around again until her feet are at his head.  She turns, facing him, inhales deeply, and then comes down again.  When she comes around this time, her legs are held out straight, and Bruce’s feet come up to meet her, settling in the curve of her lower back.

 

Tony watches in awe as Betty exhales and lets Bruce carry her up until she’s poised in the air, body curving as her arms stretch out toward her legs, held in the air only by Bruce’s feet.  She holds the pose for a few moments before slowly curving backward, her legs bending around, feet curling around Bruce’s shins and tucking there as he reaches up both hands, cradling her elbows as she reaches for her toes with her fingers before she releases, her torso elongating and stretching until Bruce is reaching for her shoulders as she starts to unfold, legs coming out gracefully as she holds onto his heels, and Tony has to try very hard to keep quiet as she comes away, holding onto his heels still, Bruce’s hands curled loosely around her shoulders, holding her in midair as she comes into a split stand.  They continue to move as one, a fluid body.

 

When Betty comes out of the split, her legs rotating in different versions, Bruce’s other leg comes up, and he balances Betty’s hips on his feet so that she can pull her legs into butterfly, opening her shoulders with a clasp, coming forward until Bruce carefully lifts his head, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.  She smiles widely when he leans back down, and then she’s shifting into another stand, her nose by his knees.  Bruce slowly pulls his feet away, holding her shoulders as Betty curls her fingers around his wrists, legs coming up into a full lotus, and Tony thinks he might cry.  He’s never seen anything so beautiful, so trusting before, and he wants nothing more than to have something this intimately delicate.

 

Betty shifts again, legs moving, Bruce’s hands steadying her, until, somehow, she’s sitting on his feet, legs curled in full lotus again, arms spread wide, and this quiet, sudden laugh bursts out of Bruce as he stares up at her, her long, dark hair brushing against his heels as she tips her head back, beaming.  They slide back together, Bruce’s fingers walking up along her spine as Betty turns and rests herself against his feet again, holding there until Bruce reaches for her hands, and he pulls her away, bringing her into a stand, their fingers laced together tightly.  When he brings her back down, Betty’s inhale fills the room, her exhale coming as her back meets Bruce’s feet again, legs curling backward as she releases his hands and suspends herself there.  And then, after a quiet, still moment, Bruce slowly brings her down, Betty’s arms coming up to rest on either side of his head as Bruce’s knees bend, bringing her closer and closer until they’re lying together, Bruce rolling her up until Betty can turn and press their mouths together.

 

They lie there together for a few moments, just breathing, until Bruce shifts his hands under Betty, bracing them against the backs of her shoulders, and she lets herself be slowly pushed up until she’s sitting.  Bruce takes his legs back, sitting next to her, and they both look at Tony, who’s pretty sure he’s on the verge of tears, and he just can’t stop _staring_ at them.

 

“Tony?” Betty asks, concerned, “Are you okay?”

 

“That was _beautiful_.  I’m—I’m—wow.”

 

Betty breaks out into a beam, looking over at Bruce and bumping shoulders with him.  “Hear that?” she says, and Bruce nods, ducking his eyes and kissing her shoulder.

 

“I love you,” he whispers against her skin, reaching for her hand.  Betty closes her eyes, still smiling, and Tony takes that as his cue.  He quietly gets his things together, though they look up when the bed creaks.

 

“Tony, you can stay, if you want,” Bruce says, lifting his head.

 

“I’m gonna probably bawl like a baby if I have to be around you two anymore,” he says, ruffling Bruce’s hair as he goes by and leaning down to kiss Betty’s cheek.  “Let me know when the presentation is, we’re definitely coming.  Also, you’re teaching me how to do that,” he adds, pointing at both of them in turn before he leaves.

 

Tony pulls out his phone as he’s going down the hall, scrolling through his contacts until he reaches Luke’s name, and he thumbs over it, calling him.  He answers on the fourth ring, as Tony’s opening the door, “Hey, babe.”

 

“Hey, what are you doing right now?” Tony asks, ignoring Steve’s hello as he goes across the room and deposits his laptop and notebook on his desk.

 

“Wishing you were here,” Luke says smoothly, “Wanna come over?”

 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Tony says, “I’ll be there in twenty.”  He hangs up, holds up a hand when Steve tries to talk, and then packs his backpack with his things for tomorrow’s classes.  “I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow,” he says, and then he’s gone.

 

——

 

When he gets to Luke’s dorm, it’s almost eleven, and he’s spent the walk trying not to think about what he’s going to find when he gets there and failing, so his jeans are tight and almost uncomfortable when he swipes his keycard and heads inside.  Luke lives on the third floor, so he takes the stairs, knocking when he gets to his room.  It’s locked, and he waits, shifting from foot to foot as he listens to Luke rustle around inside before his feet slap against the floor.  Tony sighs, reaching down to palm his throbbing cock through his jeans.  “Luke, come on,” he mutters, and then the door is opening.

 

Tony barrels through, letting the door slam behind him, and he barely manages to hit the lock before he’s stripping out of his clothes, Luke coming in for a bruising kiss.  They stumble across the room, Tony leaving a trail of his clothes as he goes until they’re tumbling into bed, and Luke slides down his body, biting his belly and then kissing his hip before he takes his cock in his mouth, and Tony groans, fingers curling in his hair.

 

They waste the night like that, Luke’s mouth on Tony’s cock until Tony’s pulling at his hair, a whine building in his throat, and Luke just swallows him down and lets Tony come down his throat.  After, Luke jerks off, Tony staring down at the quick circle of his fist until Luke’s grunting and coming over Tony’s stomach, and then they’re lying together, kissing lazily and just breathing in each other’s space until Tony’s rolling over to find lube and a condom.  He stretches himself while Luke slowly strokes their dicks, brings them to full hardness, and then Tony rides him, knees pinned against his ribs, Luke’s fingers scratching and kneading at his thighs and stomach until Tony’s whining and begging for more.  Luke flips them, lifting Tony’s legs into the air and fucking him until he’s choking back a scream and clinging to Luke, trembling as Luke slams into him, bruising him, filling him until he’s moaning and slowing, his cock pulsing inside Tony’s ass.  It takes longer after that, Tony still shaking a little when Luke curls them together, thigh slotting in between Tony’s, and they drift off, Luke’s arms wrapped around him until Tony wakes a few hours later, his cock heavy and hard, his body aching with wanting.  He rolls his hips until he feels Luke hardening behind him, and Luke laughs softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.  “I knew I was right to keep you around,” Luke murmurs, and Tony just rolls his eyes and pulls out of his grip, getting to his knees.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, looking down at Luke, who nods, not breathing.  Tony holds onto the cheap imitation of a headboard, knuckles white as Luke’s hips slap against his ass, and Tony almost blacks out when he comes this time, his orgasm rolling through him until he’s gasping and barely holding himself up.  Luke pulls out and lets him sag toward the bed, but Tony can feel his knuckles, brushing against the base of his spine, and Luke comes over his back, Tony’s name on his tongue.

 

They clean up, Tony groans when he has to move, and Luke laughs softly at him, peppering his shoulders and neck with kisses before they’re snuggling close and falling asleep.  Tony never sleeps well when there are other people in his bed, but he manages to get a few hours before he’s spending the rest of the night just repeating formulas in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Look at that, up early again. I was feeling kind of down about last night’s finale for _Shameless_ , so I decided I’d have some fun, post the new chapter early again because why the hell not? I’m so bad at keeping to my schedule, I just want to give you guys everything right away because you’re so sweet and lovely. There are also things I wanted to talk about.
> 
> Many of you have requested that the chapters be lengthened, and, after some consideration, I’ve decided to take that into account and start rearranging things. I’m going to leave the first six chapters as they are because they’re already uploaded, but the rest of the chapters will be much longer, hopefully. As you can see, this one already is longer, over 5k, and I’m hoping to keep it that way, though usually between 4-5k probably. This will also allow you guys to see more happening at once, and there will be more for you to comment on. With this change in lengths, there’s also a change in timeline. Superhusbands will now be happening in the early thirties. If I wasn’t so lazy, I’d map out how long each semester is again, but I’m too lazy, so just know that our boys will be getting together a lot sooner. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! It’s a big one, too, because oh man, this party. This is _the_ party, and yes, you’ll know exactly what I mean when you get to the scene. For that scene, for your listening pleasure, [Crazy Kids by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_9v9RWE_go), which is my Steve and Tony party song forever and ever. I don’t know what it is, but something about that opening struck a chord in me during this party, and things just _happened_. Get ready.
> 
> ii. I’d also like to take a second to let you guys know that the first of the non-explicit dubcon is happening in this chapter. I mean non-explicit very seriously—no gory details, I promise. However, I mean that only for the sexual details. We will see Tony being physically abused.

Saturday rolls around, and, with it, their first hosted party in a few weeks.

 

It kicks off with a bang, the whole floor pouring into Steve and Tony’s room, their CA seeking out Tony, who lets out a cheer when he sees her, pulling her toward him and tipping her head back for a slow, long kiss.  They dance together, lost in the current of bodies.

 

Sharon abandons Steve for Peggy and Pepper, blowing him a kiss across the room as she laughs and throws her head back, and so Steve dives in, slipping through the crowd until someone grabs his wrist, and he doesn’t know who it is or even what her face looks like, just that she and a few of her friends are suddenly surrounding him, and he lets go.

 

Tony gets pulled into the closet by their CA halfway through the party, fucks her against the wall, and he’s collapsed into a beanbag he threw in there last week when the door opens, and Betty and Bruce come in.  Tony kicks at the other beanbag that’s hidden, and Bruce pulls it out, dropping down as Betty locks the door.  Bruce tosses Tony a bag of hash, Tony gives Bruce his best smile, and then Betty’s curling up with Bruce, kissing him as Tony rolls them a blunt.

 

They get high in the closet, Tony giggling as Betty stretches out, toes tucking under Tony’s thighs.  “This is where it’s at,” Bruce says, exhaling, “Shit, that’s good.”

 

“I think,” Tony says, reaching for the blunt, and he takes a long pull before he continues, his voice a little tighter, “I think you should let me make out with you tonight, Bruce.”

 

“Not happening, genius,” Bruce says, foot tapping against Tony’s thigh.

 

“No, I really, really think you should,” Tony says, curling a hand around his ankle, thumb slipping under his jeans and stroking over the bone, “I think you should _both_ let me make out with you.”

 

“It’s up to Bruce,” Betty says, taking the blunt from Tony and leaning back into Bruce.

 

“Give me a few more weeks to warm up to it,” Bruce says before he’s kissing Betty’s jaw, moving up until Betty’s turning and meeting him, mouths moving against each other.  Tony groans as Betty licks into Bruce’s mouth, and he presses his heel against his groin, watching them.  “Stop it,” Bruce mumbles, kicking him even as he holds out the blunt.

 

Tony takes it gratefully, distracting himself.  “New plan,” he says, letting his head tip back, “You guys fuck, I’ll just watch.”

 

Betty shifts, knee coming down on Bruce’s other side before he has a chance to respond, and Bruce’s hands curl around her hips as she bends toward him, fingers fisting in his hair as she kisses him.  “I’m gonna jerk off if you do, though, just warning you,” Tony says, and Betty looks over at him.  “Well then,” he grumbles, rolling off the beanbag, “Have it your way.”  He gets to his feet clumsily, goes back out to the party, and laughs when he hears the lock click on the closet door.

 

He can see Steve from here, trapped between Sharon and Peggy, and he wants nothing more than to rile him up and leave him with the dirtiest thoughts possible.  The track switches into something darker, louder, and Sharon gives him an opening as the door opens and Luke comes in, his girlfriend in tow.  Sharon runs over to her, embracing her tightly as Luke catches Tony’s eye.  Tony just looks away and makes a beeline for Steve, his grin feral and dark.

 

“Hey,” Steve says as Tony approaches, and Tony lifts a hand, nodding when Steve laughs softly and takes the blunt.  Tony watches the end burn as Steve inhales, and he slides close, enough that Steve jumps when he tries to hand it back and Tony is just _there_.  “Tony—”

 

“Just shut up,” Tony says, and then the bass drops, and Tony curls two fingers in Steve’s belt loops, tugging him closer.  He moves them together, hips rolling into Steve’s, who just stands there, frozen, until Tony leans forward and presses a wet, lingering kiss to the base of his throat and then Steve’s taking another drag on the blunt, passing it down to Tony, and giving in.  He grabs at Tony, fingers tight around his hips, and Tony lets his head drop back, lets Steve do with him what he will.

 

The track changes again, sliding into something higher, something Tony can really dance to, and he shifts in Steve’s hands, turning until his back is pressed against Steve’s chest, his head rolling back until it’s resting against Steve’s shoulder, head turned away from him.  He lets himself get lost in the sound thrumming through him, making his blood stir and light on fire, arms coming up to hook around Steve’s neck, one hand sliding up through the back of his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

 

“Tony,” Steve groans, one of his hands coming up to rest against his stomach, and then his breath is ghosting over Tony’s ear, and Tony just lets out a soft laugh and rolls his ass back into Steve’s lap, grins when he finds him hard.

 

“Whatever you want, muscles,” he whispers, and Steve presses their temples together, holds his breath as the music builds and builds and builds, and then it’s breaking, a crescendo that shatters through the room, and Steve’s other hand slides around, curls around Tony’s denim cock, squeezing, his mouth landing on Tony’s neck.  Tony’s breath stutters out of him as he starts to slow, just rocking them together, keeping them close.  Steve kisses down to Tony’s shoulder, the heel of his palm pushing against Tony, hand curving around him and bringing Tony higher until Steve is biting his jaw, and Tony shudders, his cock _aching_ in his jeans.  He wants so bad to turn and shove Steve down onto his bed, wants so bad for everyone to just be _gone_ , wants to fuse them close together and let Steve open him up and show him how to love.

 

“Steve,” he gasps, turning his head, and Steve looks down at him with wide, dark eyes, the blue so bright, but so thin, and Tony tilts his head up, his lips open and waiting.  Steve’s gaze flicks down, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, and Tony holds his breath.

 

“ _Steve_!” Sharon’s voice echoes from across the room, and Steve jerks back, his hands leaving scorching marks of want across Tony’s body as they pull away.

 

“Steve, no,” Tony says, reaching for him, but he’s already halfway across the room, and Tony sags backward, his knees going out from under him as he falls back onto the bed, trembling.  He can’t quite catch his breath, and his chest is tight in a way that isn’t painful, that doesn’t make him think his heart is giving out, but something that feels a little bit like he’s breaking inside, like he’s losing something he never really had.  “Steve,” he whispers, and then Luke is there in front of him, and he reaches for him, letting Luke pull him to his feet.

 

“You okay?” Luke asks, one hand curling around his face and tilting his head up, looking at him with concern.  It’s the first time Tony’s seen anything more than lust when Luke looks at him, and that dulls the pain.

 

“I need you,” Tony says, and Luke nods, his other hand coming down to curl their hands together.  He leads Tony out of the party, away from it all until they’re outside in the chilly night, and he presses them against the wall, hiding them in the shadows.  He twists a hand, sliding beneath Tony’s jeans, and he brings him over the edge like this, kissing Tony quiet when he cries out and comes in his jeans like a fucking teenager.

 

When he settles, he pulls Luke closer and loses himself in the taste of his mouth until they’re both breathless, and Luke wipes his hand on Tony’s jeans and smiles at him.  “I have something fun,” Luke says, and Tony grins.

 

“I’m up for anything,” he says, and he’s not sure he means it, but he knows he wants to forget what just happened in his room.

 

——

 

When Tony and Luke get back to the room, Luke’s girlfriend is sitting on Tony’s bed with Sharon and Peggy, and Luke presses an apologetic kiss to Tony’s ear before he goes over to them.  Betty and Bruce are no longer in the closet, but instead in the middle of the dancing crowd.  Betty’s shirt has long since disappeared, and she’s in her bra and jeans, Bruce’s hands curled possessively around her as they dance together.  Tony sees a few sets of breasts and one dick before he shakes his head and plunges in.  Their parties always seem to end up like this, with less and less clothes as the night goes on.  Betty sees him coming and tips her head back, mouth ghosting over Bruce’s ear.  “Give him this one,” she says, and Bruce laughs, nodding, pressing a hot kiss against her neck before he looks up and meets Tony’s gaze, nodding again.

 

“You’re amazing,” Tony says as he reaches them, his hands coming up to wrap one around Betty’s waist, the other sliding up Bruce’s arm, and he steps close until Betty’s caught between them.  They dance until Tony’s starting to feel loose and warm, and he knows Luke’s ecstasy is flowing freely through him, and he leans up, kissing Betty quickly, jumping away before Bruce can smack him, and he worms his way through the crowd, letting out a wild yell and jumping.

 

The night wanes on, and Tony avoids Steve at all costs.  Luke finds him around two o’clock, his girlfriend long gone, and he pulls Tony close to him, winds them together and kisses him until Tony feels like he could fly.  “Let’s get out of here,” he says, and Tony grins widely, nodding.

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, winding their fingers together.  Luke kisses him again before he leads the way, leaving the party behind.

 

——

 

When Tony returns the next night, Steve isn’t there, so he sends out a text to everyone he can think of that their room is open for partying again tonight.  People start showing up around ten, Steve gets back around eleven, Sharon in tow, and Tony’s already well on his way to drunk.  Steve leans close to say something to Sharon, and then he plunges in until he reaches Tony, fingers curling around his elbow and yanking him out of the crowd.  He pulls him out into the hall, where it’s quieter, though the bass still thumps through the room, making the floor vibrate.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Oh look, it’s the fucking tease,” Tony says, giggling and trying to turn back to their door.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, pulling him back, “Look, man, I’m really sorry, I don’t know what happened last night.  Can we just—forget about it?”

 

Tony straightens, brow furrowing as he looks at Steve.  He shakes his head, letting out this empty, little laugh.  “Yeah, of course,” Tony says, turning away again, but Steve keeps his hold.  “Let go of me, or I’ll fuck you up, Steve.”

 

Steve lets go of him, watching Tony go back into the room.  Inside, Tony lets himself be pulled in every which direction until someone’s pressing something to his tongue, someone else is making lines on the dresser and guiding him over to it, and then, Tony starts to lose time.

 

Steve and Sharon leave at some point, and the party starts to get smaller and smaller until someone’s giving Tony a shove toward the bed, and he topples over, giggling and curling close to his pillow.  “Lock the door,” a male voice says.

 

“Steve, shut off the lights,” Tony whines, pulling his knees up to his chest.

 

The lights go off, the lock clicks on the door, and two sets of feet pad across the room.  Tony’s starting to drift off when a pair of hands come down on his shoulders, holding him down, another pair stripping him of his jeans.  “Hey,” Tony says, trying to push up only to be held down, “Hey.”

 

“Sh, Tony, go to sleep,” someone whispers.

 

“Okay,” he mumbles, yawning.

 

He gets brief flashes of pain, someone clamping a hand over his mouth, someone else thrusting inside of him, someone else keep an eye at the peephole.  He tries, once, to fight back, but his body feels heavy and sluggish, and he can’t do much more than whine softly.

 

“Sh, Tony, it’s okay,” someone whispers, fingers stroking through his hair, “You asked for this, remember?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony sighs, closing his eyes again, but then the someone at the peephole switches places, and he’s being fucked again, and his eyes start to water as he tries to push up and away again.  “Stop,” he mumbles, but someone is still petting his hair, and it’s making him sleepy.  “Stop,” he whispers, and then he falls asleep.

 

——

 

When Steve comes in the next morning, Tony is lying face down on the bed, his naked ass bare to the world, and the room is absolutely trashed.  Steve lets the door slam, but Tony doesn’t move, and so he storms across the room and gives him a rough shake.  Tony just lies there, and Steve frowns, kneeling by his bed and shaking him again, a little easier this time.  “Tony,” he says when Tony doesn’t wake.  “Shit,” he hisses, standing again and turning him over.  He’s breathing, but it’s labored, and his heart is beating too fast.  “Tony,” he says, shaking him, and, when that doesn’t work again, he runs across the room to his fridge, runs back with a water bottle, and dumps it over Tony’s face.

 

Tony comes roaring awake, coughing and wheezing.  He rolls right off his bed as Steve jumps back, landing on his knees, and he starts to try to stand when he vomits, his whole body heaving.  He sags backward, resting on his heels, but his breaths are coming in like knives, his throat too tight.  “Steve,” he says, his voice hoarse, “ _Pants_.”

 

Steve quickly goes to find him pants, and he helps Tony into them, trying to steer him toward his bed, but his knees give out, and he sags against Steve, one hand coming up to clutch at his chest.  “Steve,” he gasps, clinging to him, and that’s when Steve realizes he’s crying, tears falling unbidden down his face.  He’s shaking hard enough that his elbows jab against Steve, and so he dips down, scooping Tony’s wobbly knees up and carrying him over to his bed, setting him down.  Tony curls into the fetal position, and he can barely breathe, his chest constricting too quickly.

 

“What do you need?” he asks softly, kneeling and stroking his fingers along Tony’s face, carefully pushing his hair back.

 

With each inhale, he jerks a little, like he’s trying to pull down the air and just _can’t_ , but he manages to lift a hand and point shakily at his desk, and Steve hurries over, pulling open the top drawer and then freezing.  There’s a fucking _pharmacy_ in there, and Steve doesn’t know how he’s going to figure out which one he needs.  He just starts looking, and the fourth pill bottle catches his eye, something that says _diuretic_ on it, and he remembers that word from his mother’s nursing books, so he starts to go back over to him when he sees the inhaler, and he grabs that, too.  Tony holds up two fingers when Steve comes back over after he shows him the prescription, and Steve helps him take them, tipping his head up and reaching for one of his water bottles on the window sill to let him sip.  He shakes the inhaler next and brings it to his mouth, depressing it.  Tony holds his breath, letting it fill him, but when he tries to breathe again, his throat is still too tight, and he feels like he’s going to die.  He looks up at Steve, terrified, and Steve just shakes the inhaler again and brings it back to his mouth.  It does the trick, and Tony lets out a shattered breath, closing his eyes.

 

Steve sits with him for a couple minutes, waiting, before he presses a kiss to Tony’s temple and whispers, “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Steve,” he wheezes, clinging to him.

 

Steve carefully pries himself loose and says, “You’re going to be okay.  I’ll be right back.”

 

Steve leaves him curled on up on his bed while he goes to find the janitor, and he makes up some shit story that neither of them buy, but the janitor comes in and cleans Tony’s mess up anyway, thankfully not commenting on the state of the room.  When he’s gone, Steve sets about cleaning up, and Tony watches him, not moving, but eyes flicking across the room, following Steve’s movements until the room resembles something that looks like _theirs_ again, and then he comes and sits on the edge of his bed, looking down at Tony.  “What happened?” he asks.

 

“Can you lie down with me?” Tony asks, and Steve starts to shake his head when Tony says, “ _Please_.”

 

Steve sighs—he sounds so desperate, so _afraid_ , and this isn’t the Tony he knows, and it scares him.  He toes off his shoes, starts to lie on his side, but Tony scoots closer to the edge, and so Steve climbs over him, settling against the wall.  Tony looks over his shoulder, and Steve can see it all there on his face.  He wants to keep Tony at arms’ length, is afraid of what having him close will do, but he can’t stand seeing him like this, so he shifts until they’re pressed together, Steve’s arm curled around him.  “What happened?” he asks again.

 

Tony’s quiet for a few moments before, “I don’t really know _what_ happened.  After you left, I—I took something, maybe a few things, but I don’t _know_ , and I think—I think there were people here after the party, and I remember someone’s hand on my mouth, and—oh god.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“Dude, I’m sorry about the party the other night, what I did to you.  That wasn’t cool,” he says, switching subjects as fast as possible.  He can’t tell Steve about that, can’t let him know he isn’t sure if someone took advantage of him last night, if three someone’s locked the door and _took turns fucking him_.

 

“It’s fine,” Steve mumbles, and they lie there for a few seconds more before Tony pushes away from him and stumbles out of the room.

 

——

 

Half a week goes by in which Steve and Tony actively avoid each other until it’s Wednesday, and Tony hides himself in the closet with a blunt and smokes until he’s got a good bake going on, and then someone knocks on the door.  “Who is it?” he sings.

 

“Betty,” Betty says as she comes in, “Tony, where are you?”

 

“Cloooooo _set_!”

 

Betty opens the door, shaking her head when she sees Tony collapsed on one of the beanbags.  She takes up the other one, closing the door behind her.  “What’s going on with you, sweetie?” she asks as he hands over the blunt.

 

“Oh, _you know_ ,” Tony grumbles, shifting until he’s comfortable.

 

“Use your words,” Betty says, handing it back over.

 

Tony takes a long pull before he flails his hand around dramatically and says, “Steve put his hand on my dick.”

 

“ _What_?” Betty says, staring at him with wide eyes.

 

“I had pants on, unfortunately,” Tony says before bringing the blunt back to his lips, “But we were dancing, and he was definitely taking the lead, and his hand was on my stomach first, but then his other one was on my dick, and then— _Betty_ —he kissed my fucking neck, and it was _awesome_.  You know what happened then?”

 

“Do tell,” she says, snatching the blunt from Tony.

 

“Fucking _Sharon_.”  Tony doesn’t continue, so Betty kicks him.  “She fucking goes, _STEVE_ , and he goes running, and then Luke found me, and _we_ fucked, and it was pretty spectacular, and things are getting nicer between us, they really are.  It’s more like boyfriends and less like fuck buddies, but then.  Betty, this is the bad part, you might want to cover your ears.”

 

Tony starts rolling another blunt because Betty’s not giving his back, and he pauses for a while, smoking serenely.  “Tony,” Betty reminds, kicking him again.

 

“And then someone had their way with me, but I think it was a gang bang, and there were _so many people_ , but maybe it was only three, and I was kind of asleep, and I didn’t really know what was going on because _someone_ gave me something _awesome_.  Holy shit, I think I snorted cocaine the other night.  Well, that would explain a lot.  I had a bad night, Betty, and then I woke up, and I forgot to take my meds again, and Steve found me, and okay, you can uncover your ears now, it’s not the bad part anymore.”

 

“Tony,” she sighs, but Tony just flaps a hand at her and shakes his head.

 

“Nope, we’re getting high,” he says, leaning forward and lifting up his blunt to toast.  Betty sighs and toasts with him before she settles back in the beanbag.  “I want to _bone him_ ,” Tony says after a while of silence, and after Betty is starting to feel _good_.

 

“Steve?”

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

“I thought you weren’t talking to him?”

 

“I’m all done not talking to him.  I miss him.  _Steve_!”

 

“Tony?” Steve’s voice comes from the room, and Tony’s eyes blow wide as he looks over at Betty.  The closet door opens a second later, and Steve appears in the doorway, looking down at them curiously.  “What are you doing?”

 

“Getting _high_ ,” Betty says, offering the blunt to Steve before she pulls herself up, kisses Tony on the mouth, and he grins crookedly as she heads out.  “Be good to him,” Betty says, patting Steve’s ass a few times before she’s gone.

 

“I’m not getting high in the closet,” Steve says.

 

Tony snorts, “That’s just cos you won’t get _out_ of the closet.  Help me up,” he says, holding up his hands.

 

Steve hauls him to his feet, and Tony sags against him, singing softly to himself.  Steve gives him a little shove so Tony sags against the wall, and he goes over to bed, dropping down onto it.  Tony follows him, squirming between Steve and the wall and hunkering down.  “Tell me about life, Stephen.  How’s your week been?” Tony asks, stealing the blunt from him.

 

“Only been three days, doofus.  It was whatever.  I’m ready to be taking more serious art classes.  Most of this is just really boring.  I want to be in the advanced classes.”

 

“Preaching to the choir, man,” Tony says, nudging him, “I can’t wait to start my physics major, it is going to be bad _ass_.”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve grumbles, “How many majors are you planning to get?”

 

“At least four.  One a year, bub, and then it’s off to the big leagues, as the father requests.”

 

Steve just grunts, and then he falls quiet, so Tony snuggles deeper, closing his eyes.  They pass the blunt back and forth until Tony’s drifting off, and Steve finishes it off, places the dead bit on his desk, and gets comfortable.

 

——

 

The next day, Steve’s up early for environmental science, but Tony doesn’t have bio until one, so he moves about the room quietly, going out for his run.  When he gets back, Tony waves blindly, and Steve laughs softly.  “Good morning, Tony,” he says when he takes out his headphones.

 

Tony grunts, grumbles something that _might_ be a good morning in response, and rolls over onto his front.  Steve showers, and then gets dressed for the day.  When he’s about to leave, he reaches for an eraser and chucks it at Tony on his way out.  Tony whines loudly at him as he closes the door, and Steve just laughs.

 

When he gets back, Tony’s still asleep, snoring softly, and Steve’s feeling tired enough that he climbs back into bed and naps until eleven thirty, when Tony’s alarm goes off.  “Motherfucker,” Tony says as he slaps the snooze button.

 

“You’re such a queen,” Steve mumbles before he yawns.

 

“You sound like my mom,” Tony says, and then he falls out of bed with a loud thud and a groan.  Steve looks over at him, shaking his head.  “Shut up,” Tony says, pointing at him before he drags himself across the floor and then sits, opening his top drawer and rifling around until he can find his heart meds.

 

By the time Tony’s getting up to get dressed, Betty’s at the door, Bruce in tow.  They wait while Tony gets ready, and, before long, they’re headed out to lunch.  The rest of the day goes by relatively quickly.  Steve gets out of drawing when Tony goes into calculus, so he goes to dinner without him.  Sharon comes over after dinner, they fuck around before settling in with a movie, and then she’s stretching and leaving around ten when Steve realizes Tony still isn’t home.  When Sharon’s gone, he frowns, reaching for his phone, and sending Tony a text, _hey, just wondering if you’re coming home tonight._

He gets no answer by midnight, but he’s got to be up by seven, so he goes to sleep in an empty room.

 

——

 

Tony isn’t there in the morning, isn’t there when he leaves to pick Betty and Bruce up for lunch, isn’t there when he leaves for the gym, isn’t there when he gets back and starts in on his homework.  He texts him again while he’s waiting for Betty and Bruce to gather their things for dinner, _is everything okay?  I haven’t heard from you in a while, just wanted to make sure nothing happened._

Betty tells him not to worry, that he’s probably just spending some time with Luke, and Steve starts to settle a little, enough that when he walks into his room and the lights are off, he almost doesn’t see Tony.

 

He flips on the lights, deposits his jacket on a hook, and then turns and jumps.  “Jesus, Tony, I didn’t even see you there,” he says, starting to walk toward his bed.

 

“Can you turn the light off, please?” Tony asks quietly, his voice flat and even.

 

“I gotta do homework.  Do you mind if I keep them on?”

 

It takes a moment, but then Tony sighs and says, “Yeah, whatever, it’s fine.”

 

“You okay?” Steve asks, but Tony ignores him, stretching further into his down dog.  Steve passes by him, and the second he’s on Tony’s other side, he moves into a lunge.  “Where were you last night?”  He waits, looking at him, but Tony refuses to answer him.  “Tony?”

 

“Out,” he says.

 

Steve sighs.  “Dude, what’s up with you?”

 

“I’m fine, Steve.”  He shifts his lunge, turning into a twist, and Steve frowns, squinting a little.

 

“Tony,” he says slowly, bed creaking as he stands.  Tony quickly comes out of the twist, deepening the lunge as he brings his back leg up, and Steve can see it now, can see how he’s hiding his face from him.  He tiptoes around, and the second before Tony notices him, Steve sees what he’d thought had been a bit of dirt is really an ugly bruise curling up his jaw and around to his ear.  His lip is split open and swollen, and his eyebrow is a little dark.  Tony bows away into down dog again, but Steve isn’t having any of that, and he reaches for him.

 

“Don’t touch me,” Tony says, coming out of down dog too hard, knees hitting the ground as he flinches away.

 

“Tony, what the hell, man?  What happened?”

 

Tony refuses to look at him when he says, “This is a no-touch zone right now.  Please leave me alone.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“ _Steve_.  Leave me the fuck alone.”

 

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, stalking back across the room.  He takes his sketchpad into bed, opening it to one of his recent projects, and he starts working on the outline as Tony shifts into another lunge, and then he’s coming up on his knees and going through a round of camels before he spikes his toes and starts to move in to thread the needle.  He’s barely twisted, coming down on his right, when he gasps, falling out of the pose and letting his forehead thud against the floor.  He sinks backward, into an awkward child’s pose, and Steve looks up, brow furrowed.

 

He starts to look back down when Tony’s breathing slowly becomes audible, too fast and harsh, and then Steve notices his shoulders are shaking.  He scrambles out of bed, thinking this is another heart-related episode, but the second his feet hit the floor, Tony skitters backward, stumbling across the floor until his back hits his bed.

 

“Don’t,” he gasps out, holding up a shaking hand, palm out.  His knees come in against his chest almost instinctively.  Steve tries to step forward, but Tony emits this small, broken noise and flinches farther back, eyes squeezing shut.  “Please,” he begs, his voice cracking, “Don’t.”

 

“Do you need any medication?” Steve asks, gesturing to his desk.

 

“No, it’s—” but then he can’t speak, can barely breathe, and Tony clutches at his chest, trying to focus, trying to hone in on his breathing, trying to will himself to calm, but all he can feel are rough hands pinning him to a cold floor, his side slamming against the floor as he falls, and he knows he’s having a panic attack, knows he just needs to slow everything down until he can find his calm, but he can’t stop _shaking_.

 

Steve starts to leave, taking his phone, but Tony squeaks, his hand slapping against the floor.  “Please don’t leave me,” he chokes out as Steve reaches the door.  He pauses, and then nods, coming back and sitting opposite Tony, his back resting against his desk.

 

It’s torture, just sitting here when all he wants to do is help, but he’s afraid to approach him, afraid to know why he doesn’t want to be touched.  He hates that he has to just sit here as Tony’s breath wheezes in and out, as he trembles uncontrollably until he’s hooking his arms around his neck and burying his head in his thighs.

 

“Steve,” he says suddenly, his voice wrecked.  Steve holds himself there, doesn’t move, waits for Tony to continue.  Tony looks up at him, and it’s the first time he’s actually met his gaze since he came back and found him.  His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks exhausted.  “Tell me a story,” he says, though it’s visibly hard for him to get the words out.  Tony keeps going in and out, and he thinks that maybe, if Steve just talks, if he can just hear his voice, he’ll be able to focus on that and hold onto it, hold onto _him_.

 

Steve launches into the story of the first time they took Emma sledding, how she’d stolen the toboggan herself and nearly ended up in a ditch as it flew down the hill past them.  Tony tries to listen, but all he can hear is his voice, _you fucking tease, you asked for this, you don’t fucking come in here and then say never mind, you fucking asked for it, and I will not put up with this shit_ , and so he presses his hands against his ears, trying to block it out.  Steve seems to understand that he’s supposed to keep talking, so he switches tracks, talking about the first time they all went to the beach without their parents, when Steve packed them all up a few weeks after he first got his license and drove his three chattering sisters to the nearest beach.  Emma had only been five back then, so he’d spent most of his time with her, building sand castles and running through the shallow end.  Tony shoulders relax a little when he starts to talk about the ocean, so he unlocks his phone as he keeps talking, opens Pandora, and clicks on the ocean waves station.  He sets it on the ground in front of him, and he drops his voice a little, talking quietly about how Emma likes to float on her belly in the shallow end, likes to pull herself forward and then let the waves take her in and out, likes to put her back to the waves and let them surprise her.  As the music picks up, Tony breaks, choking on this shattered noise, his whole body slumping over.

 

Steve falls quiet, just letting the waves flow between them until Tony’s breathing starts to return to normal.  They sit there for long minutes until Tony finally lifts his head, resting his chin on his knees.  “Better?” Steve asks.

 

Tony nods.  “Panic attack,” he whispers, “I’ve been taking my meds regularly.”

 

“Do you need anything?”

 

“Can you grab me a water?”  Steve nods, getting up slowly and crossing over to his fridge.  He starts to approach Tony, but his shoulders tighten, and he stops.  “Just, um,” Tony starts, looking unsure.

 

Steve walks until he’s just beyond reaching distance, and he sets down the water before going back over to his desk.  Tony watches him, and, when he sits, he goes to collect the water, but he’s trembling when he sits back down.  “Thank you,” he whispers, uncapping it.  He downs half of it in one go, gasping afterward, and then he looks back up at Steve.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Steve says immediately, shaking his head, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” Tony says quickly, his voice cracking, “Please no.”

 

“Did I ever tell you about the time Emma got stuck in the monkey bars?”  Tony offers him a weak, wobbly smile, shaking his head, and so Steve starts telling him that story.  When he finishes, Tony’s eyes are heavy, and he’s resting his head on his knees, just staring at Steve.  “Do you wanna go to bed?” he asks, and Tony nods.

 

He gets up slowly, pausing when he’s standing to curl a hand over his side, and his breathing shifts into something a little pained.  He moves after a few moments, going over to his dresser, and Steve goes to sit on his bed, watching him, just in case.  When Tony takes off his shirt, though, it takes all his willpower not to go over to him, not to demand why there’s an ugly, dark bruise curving around his side.

 

Tony changes into something softer, pulls on a pair of sweats, and then climbs into bed.  “I’m going to call my mom real quick, okay?  I’ll be right outside the door,” Steve says.

 

“Okay,” Tony mumbles.

 

He waits until he’s sure Tony’s settled in bed, and then he goes out into the hall, taking his phone with him.  His mom answers on the second ring, “Steve?  Is everything okay?  I’m at work right now.”

 

“Yeah, just—I need to ask your advice really quick.”

 

“Okay, hold on.”  Steve listens to Sara talk to one of the other nurses before she’s coming back, “What’s up?”

 

“Tony didn’t come back to the room last night, and he was gone all day today.  When he did finally come back, it was during dinner, and I found him doing yoga in the dark.  When I turned the lights on, he had this awful bruise on the side of his face, and his lip was all cut up.  He was trying to do a pose, and I think he hurt his side because, when he changed for bed, his side was all bruised up, too.  He just had a panic attack, and he won’t let me near him.  He keeps saying not to touch him, not to come near him, and I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Don’t go near him,” Sara says, “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it sounds like he’s in a very vulnerable state right now, and something might have happened that’s making him feel unsafe.  The only thing you can do right now is to respect his wishes.  Stay away from him, but stay close.  Keep an eye on him, and make sure to listen to him.  Wait until he lets you know that it’s okay to approach him.  Panic attacks are tricky things, and if he managed to come out of it on his own and get to bed, just leave him to it.  Don’t try to talk about what happened, either.  Let him tell you because, otherwise, it may induce another attack.”

 

“Okay,” Steve sighs, “I’m just—mom, sometimes, after parties, he mentions that he didn’t know who he slept with, and then he always laughs it off, but I’m afraid something like that might have happened.”

 

Sara is quiet for a moment before she asks, “Steve, do you think he was sexually abused?”

 

“I don’t know, mom,” he says, scrubbing a hand through his hair, “I’m just worried that might be a possibility.”

 

“The only thing I can really suggest is to monitor him, then.  Be respectful of what he asks, and try to keep an eye on him during parties from now on, though I would just recommend not partying at all since you’re underage, but let’s continue to pretend I don’t know what you’re doing up there.”

 

“I’m sorry, mom,” he mumbles.

 

“It’s fine, sweetie.  Keep me updated.  I have to go back to work.  I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.  Thank you.”

 

When he gets back, Tony is asleep, though he looks unhappy, and Steve just sighs and takes his laptop to bed, plugging in his headphones and pulling up a movie to watch.

 

——

 

Tony tries desperately to think of anything _but_ what happened as he feels himself drifting off, but he still manages to dream about it.  He’d gone out looking to get a little buzzed and maybe laid, and he ended up with some broad-shouldered athlete who wanted to fuck him and then pretend they’d never met.  Tony was all for a nameless shag, and so he’d gone back with him to his room, but when they’d tumbled into bed together, Tony stretched and waiting, something hadn’t felt right.  The room stank like cheap beer, and all he could think about was his father when he got drunk and started using his belt instead of his hand, and Tony had flinched away, shaking his head.

 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t—this isn’t going to work,” he tried to say, reaching for his pants, “I’m sorry, this is really shitty, it’s just—” and that’s when the first blow had fell on him, a backhand across his ass that made him lurch forward, grunting in surprise.

 

He’d known, right away, what was going to happen, and so he’d kicked back, hitting the guy in the thigh before he’d grabbed his jeans and started to run, but a swift kick to the shin had sent him tumbling, and he’d hit his knees, crying out.  The guy had come around, thrown one, hard forearm against his back, and he’d slammed against the ground, screaming when he was dragged backward, but then there was a shirt being pulled between his teeth, and he was being fucked into the floor, sobbing and fighting until he was shaking.

 

Tony wakes up with a thin, high cry, fighting against the tangle of his blankets as he trembles, trying to get free.  Steve’s laptop thuds against his desk, and Tony breaks, scrambling out of bed, but his foot gets caught and he ends up on the floor, landing on his bad side.  He starts sobbing, pulling his leg hysterically until Steve is there, a hand ghosting over Tony’s arm before he’s yanking the blanket free, and Tony crumbles to the ground, shaking.

 

Steve squats and pulls Tony against him, and he expects a fight, but Tony just curls into him, fingers fisting in his shirt, clinging to him.  He carries Tony over to his bed, carefully laying him down on the inside before he goes back for his water.  “Hey,” he whispers when he sits next to him, running a hand over his arm, “Try drinking a little.”

 

Tony sits up, and he tries to take the water, but he’s shaking so hard he can barely hold it, so Steve just sighs and scoots closer, wrapping his arms around him.  “Let go,” Steve whispers, and Tony falls apart, sobbing into his chest, nails scraping against him as he holds onto him tightly.

 

“Steve,” he chokes out, and Steve slides one hand up to thread through Tony’s hair, cradling his head, the other one rubbing circles in his back.

 

“You’re safe,” Steve says, pulling Tony closer until he’s nearly in his lap, “I promise.”

 

“Don’t leave me,” Tony mumbles.

 

They stay like that for a while until Tony starts to calm, and Steve hands him the water before he turns to shut off his laptop and then fix his blankets so they can both fit.  “Can I stay over here with you?” Tony asks softly.

 

Steve looks over at him, sitting there with his knees drawn up, his hands curled around the water bottle, his hair all mussed from sleep, and Steve realizes, all at once, how little he is, how easily dominated, and it terrifies him to think of what might have happened.

 

“If you go back to your bed, I’ll just follow you,” Steve says, and Tony actually manages a small smile, nodding.

 

“Thank you,” he says, putting his bottle on the windowsill and then shifting until he’s on his side, back turned to Steve, who lies facing him.

 

“Tony,” he whispers.

 

“I don’t always want to have sex,” he says, and Steve frowns.

 

“What?”

 

“Of course, that doesn’t always mean people act like consenting adults.”

 

Steve stares at Tony’s back.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tony says, “I just need you to know.  Please don’t tell anyone else.”

 

“Tony, no,” Steve says, pushing up onto his elbow, “You need to talk about it.  Do you mean—”

 

“Drop it, Steve.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Tony says, turning over, “What part of that don’t you understand?”

 

“Maybe the part where you just implied that there’s been dubious consent or even, hell, no consent.  Tony, this isn’t just a say it and move on kind of subject.  You—”

 

“You wanna know all the gory details?” Tony erupts, pushing off the bed until he’s sitting, “You wanna know about the first time I slept with Luke, how he _drugged_ me, and I have no recollection of that night, how I woke up with some random guy I’d never even seen before the next morning?”  Steve stares up at him, shocked.  “Yeah, that was so much fun, but I clearly think I deserved it because I’m still fucking with him.  I asked for it, so might as well have gotten it.  Or, wait, maybe there was that time, the first party we went looking for, you remember that one, at that redheaded chick’s place?  Her friends were fucking _fabulous_.  I _so_ appreciate them mixing my drinks for me so that I could end up tied to their fucking _bed_ while they took turns.  Oh, but the gang bang was definitely my favorite.  I really, really fucking asked for it when you were out with Sharon and there were _three_ of them, one at the peephole, keeping watch, one holding my fucking shoulders down, and the other one doing his civic duty.  They even managed to convince my screwed up mind into thinking that it was okay, that I wanted it, that I should just lie there and take it, maybe even go to sleep.  I don’t even _know_ how many times I’ve fallen asleep and woken up sore or somewhere I didn’t recognize or with some _one_ I didn’t recognize with absolutely no idea what had happened the night before.  Do you know how many times I’ve been drugged, because I certainly don’t, and you know what’s even better?  People keep fucking slipping me things, keeping lying to me about what they’re giving me, and I keep fucking taking it, so I think this all really just makes sense, and the best part is, I love feeling like my heart is about to give out because I don’t take my fucking pills when I’m going to drink so I don’t end up dead on the side of the road somewhere, and then I’ve got who knows what in my system, and I can barely think straight, my heart feels like it’s going to pull right out of my fucking chest, and thank you, Steve.  Thank you for letting me relive this _amazing_ semester.”

 

Tony shoves Steve out of the way and clambers out of bed, but Steve follows him, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back when Tony makes for the door.  “Let go of me!” he screams, ripping out of Steve’s grip and staggering back.  He looks like a caged animal, staring at Steve with feral eyes.  “What makes you think that’s okay?” he continues, “I just fucking told you—”

 

“ _Why_ did you tell me that?” Steve cuts him off, and he doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he’s so angry, “You can’t just say that you’ve been _raped_ , and then not talk about it!”

 

“I never said I was raped!” Tony shrieks, “I just—”

 

“Do _not_!” Steve shouts, “Do _not_ try to play this off!  You _were_ , Tony, _multiple times_ , and it’s not fucking okay!”

 

“I never said it was!” Tony yells, though his voice cracks a little, and his shoulders sag.  Steve takes his opportunity, closing the distance between them and winding his arms around Tony, who starts thrashing, trying to fight Steve away, but Steve just holds him, one hand coming up to thread through his hair, cradling his head, the other braced against the middle of his back, and Tony just breaks, slumping against Steve as all the energy drains out of him, and he lets out a shattered sob.

 

“I can’t do this,” Tony whispers, “I can’t do this anymore.”

 

“Come on,” Steve says softy, leading him back to the bed.  He waits for Tony to get in before he follows him, pulling the blankets over them and opening his arms.  Tony scoots over, his body shushing against the bed as he moves, and Steve holds him tightly when Tony burrows against his chest, their legs tangling together.  “You’re okay,” he says, and Tony believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, _Tony_. I just—I’m sorry, guys. This isn’t the end. He gets pretty destructive, but things will even out eventually, he just spirals out of control for a little bit. Doesn’t he always, though? It seems to be a thing with the Marvel fandom that Tony is just always broken, though it’s a fairly fun trope. I certainly love using it over and over again, though there was that time with the Steve angst, but that still hurts, so we won’t go into that. Anyway, rambling big time, I hope you guys are still enjoying, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. Hey guys. Just dropping by at the beginning of this chapter because I’ve received a few comments mentioning some of the “underage” issues in this, so this is me reminding everyone that Tony is nineteen in this. I just don’t want anyone freaking out about some of the stuff he does in this because he is kind of wild.

Their weekend passes slowly.

 

When Steve wakes up the next morning, Tony isn’t in the room, and he starts to panic when he notices his shower caddy is gone.  When he gets back, he looks light years better.  His hair is damp and flopping in his face, and he carries himself better, with more confidence and like he’s not afraid someone is going to jump him at any second.  He waves to Steve as he comes in, and though his side is still ugly and bruised, Steve thinks he’ll be okay.

 

They spend the day hanging out, Tony recruiting Betty and Bruce because they have Cards Against Humanity, and though they don’t ask about the bruise on the side of his face and his cut lip, Steve can see Betty’s breath catch when she first sees Tony.  After that, Tony demands they give him some pointers on acroyoga, and so then they’re all doing group yoga before Steve settles in for some homework, and Betty and Bruce work Tony through different poses to help work on his core.  After a while of that, Betty asks Tony to go for a walk with her, and Bruce flops down at the end of Steve’s bed, giving his shin a kick.  “Dude, what is _that_?” he asks, pointing to Steve’s open sketchbook, and Steve reaches for it, handing it over.  They talk about Steve’s art classes, Steve convinces Bruce to explain his major, and then they’re just chatting about nothing.

 

Sharon asks to see Steve that night, and he says no immediately, but then Tony’s practically pushing him out the door, claiming he needs some time alone to call his mom and sort his head, so Steve promises he’ll be back in a couple hours and heads out.

 

As soon as he’s gone, Tony changes into something more comfortable, pops his earphones in, and taps one, saying, “Hey Jarvis, been a while.”

 

“Good evening, sir.  What can I do for you?”

 

“Call home.  If my father answers, play an automated message.  If it’s my mom, I want to talk to her.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

Tony hunkers down in bed, drawing the blankets up over his head, waiting while the phone rings.  Finally, though, Maria answers, “Hello?”

 

“Hey, mom,” Tony says.

 

“Your ears must be ringing,” she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

 

“Yeah, you talking about me again?”

 

“Well, I had lunch with Sara today finally, Steve’s mother, and we just got lost talking about our baby boys.  I haven’t talked to you in a while, sweetie.  How’s everything?”  Tony doesn’t answer at first, instead closing his eyes and trying to swallow everything back down, but it’s so hard to contain the storm inside of him, and Maria always knows when something’s wrong.  “Tony,” she says softly, “Talk to me, baby.”

 

“Mom,” he says, his voice breaking a little, “I screwed up.”

 

“Whatever it is, we’ll fix it,” she says, “It’s going to be okay.  Whatever it is, Tony, I promise, it will be okay.”

 

“No, it’s not—it’s not something that, it’s—mom, I—”

 

“Tony,” Maria says, and he holds his breath.  “Listen to me,” she continues, her voice soft and easy, “Take a deep breath.  Come on, you can do it.”  His first try is shaky, and so Maria walks him through another few tries until he’s feeling okay again, and then she says, “Now tell me what’s going on.”

 

“I tried to say no, I really did, but people don’t fucking listen to me, they _never do_ , and I shouldn’t be skipping my meds again, but we kept going to parties, and sometimes I knew what I was taking, but sometimes I didn’t, and sometimes people lied to me, mom, and then I wouldn’t know what was going on, and I kept waking up in strange places with strange people, and I keep having these nightmares, and I don’t know what they mean, but I think—I think it’s me remembering some of the things, some of the—mom, I don’t think I’m always awake.”

 

Maria is quiet for long moments before she sighs, “Tony.”

 

“I know, I know, I know,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut, “I know I said I was going to try to stay away from parties, that I was going to try to—try to be better, to not let this shit happen again, but I can’t stop it, it’s like I have no control, and—and— _mom_.”

 

“You’re okay,” Maria says softly, “Ground yourself in my voice, baby, I’m right here.  You’re okay.  Hold on.  Let me be your life raft.”

 

Tony slows his breathing until it’s steady enough for him to say, “How was lunch with Mrs. Rogers?”

 

“She’s lovely,” Maria says, and Tony’s filled with a warmth only she can give him, “We had the nicest time, just talking and getting to know one another, and we’re going out again next week.  I’m hoping maybe we can make this a thing, see each other once a week.  I can have a girlfriend again.”

 

“I like her,” Tony says.

 

“She thinks you’re adorable.  And polite,” Maria adds, laughing, “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard that word describing you before.”

 

“Shut up, _mom_ ,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling.

 

“Are you feeling better?” she asks.

 

“Yeah,” Tony admits before he kicks the blankets away and sits up.

 

“Good.  Go put on some Cher.  Jarvis, video call, please.”

 

“Of course, Maria,” Jarvis says quietly, and Tony leaves his phone on his bed as he goes to open his laptop and find something he can dance to.

 

“Where’s Steve?” she asks as the call comes up in a projection atop Tony’s dresser.  She’s in her studio, sitting cross legged on a stool, and Tony smiles when he glances back at her.  He always thinks she looks most beautiful when she’s like this, with her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun, pencils stuck through to hold them together—multiple pencils because she always forgets there’s already one there and sticks another one in—with paint smeared on her cheek and over her hands and forearms, and there’s even one up by her hairline.  She’s wearing a dark purple shirt that hangs loose around her thin frame, and little black shorts beneath, her legs long and tan, her feet bare.

 

“Out with Sharon.  He tried to stay behind, but I told him it was fine.”

 

“Does he know?” Maria asks.  Tony turns, nodding, and she smiles.  “You’re lucky to have him.  What about Betty and Bruce?”

 

“I assume Betty will tell him, but yeah, we went for a walk and talked about it.”

 

“And Luke?  Is he one of them?” her voice changes, and Tony looks away from her hard eyes.  “Tony,” she says, but stops when he shakes his head.  His lower lip trembles as he tries to swallow his tears down, tries to find his calm again.  “Tony,” Maria says again.

 

“Mom, please,” Tony whispers.

 

“Anthony, if that boy—”

 

“Don’t,” Tony says, gaze coming back around, eyes wide, “Don’t call me that.  Please.  Don’t talk to me like he does.  I know I fucked up, but _please_ , just—let’s move on.  Cher, remember?”

 

Maria holds her angry glare for a moment longer before nodding and sliding off her stool and tugging her pencils loose so her long curls tumble out.  Tony changes out of his sweats into his yoga shorts, and he goes to lock the door—he doesn’t need anyone beyond Steve seeing him boogying with Cher and his mom—and then Jarvis starts the song, and Tony’s smile is instantaneous.  He sways around the room, slowly coming back to where Maria can see him, and she’s doing much the same, just getting into the groove.  Before long, they’re both laughing and singing loudly and _healing_.  Cher has always been their lady, the one that makes everything better, and, by the time they’ve gone through their favorites, Tony’s ready to move on.

 

He collapses onto his bed when the last song fades out, and Maria laughs breathlessly, taking a seat on his futon.  “So, what are your plans for the rest of the night?” she asks.

 

“I think I might go bother Betty and Bruce, then just hang out with Steve.  You?”

 

“I’m working on something for you.  It’s a surprise,” she adds when Tony perks up, so he sticks his tongue out at her.  “Go have fun.  I love you, sweetie.”

 

“I love you, too, mom,” he says before the call drops, and he lies in bed for a few more moments before getting up, stretching, and then padding down the hall.

 

When he gets to the super couple’s room, he knocks and waits until one of them calls for him to come in, and then he bounds in, grinning when he finds them curled up in bed watching a movie.  Bruce groans and braces himself even as Tony clambers onto the bed and crawls up between them, getting under the blankets and squirming until he’s comfortable.  “Hello, Tony,” they both say at the same time, though where Betty’s is fond, Bruce’s could be annoyed, but Tony decides to view it as exasperatedly fond.

 

“How are you feeling, dear?” Betty asks, petting his hair.

 

“Better,” Tony says, turning and snuggling against her.  Bruce sighs and scoots closer, and Tony just grins triumphantly and reaches back for one of Bruce’s arms, pulling it around him.

 

“I’m going to kill you,” Bruce mutters.

 

Tony giggles.  “I know.”

 

——

 

When Steve gets back later that night, Tony’s in his bed, curled around one of his pillows, his head on another, with a blanket pulled haphazardly over him.  He looks so soft that Steve can’t stop the urge to find his sketchpad and draw him.

 

He gets comfortable, moving his chair so that he’s at a good angle, and then he folds his legs under him and sets to work, his charcoals lined out on the desk as his fingers sweep across the page.  He starts with the pillow under his head, carefully filling it in before he moves down, working out the shape of Tony’s body beneath the blanket, moving to the other pillow, and then finally getting to him.  He leaves his hair for last because he knows he’ll get distracted trying to get it just right, and so instead he starts with his arms, one of his hands bunched loosely in the pillow, sliding up next to the slope of his shoulder and the curve of his ear.  He takes some time working out his beard, smoothing out the hard planes of his jaw, rounding out his nose, and then he’s busy playing with the shadow of his eyelashes before he finally gets to his mess of hair.  It doesn’t have any product and it’s all mussed from his nap, and so it’s lying in a mess of layers against his forehead and splayed out over the pillow, the sides and back cut shorter but growing.  He needs to get a trim, Steve notes, and, by the time he’s nearly finished, Tony’s yawning.

 

He squints at Steve, wrinkling his nose, as Steve continues to shade in his hair.  “Are you drawing me, you little creep?”

 

“Shut up,” Steve mumbles, not looking up.

 

“That’s so weird.  Let me see,” Tony says, holding out a hand.

 

Steve slaps his hand away.  “Be quiet,” he says, glancing up at him and then back down, “It’s not done.”

 

“Whatever,” Tony says before he rolls over onto his back and stretches out, “My shoulder’s being kinky again.  Will you work on it?”

 

“Yeah, in a bit,” Steve says, and then, after a few moments looking it over, he nods and turns it.

 

“Dude,” Tony says, leaning forward, mouth hanging open a little as he stares at it.  “That’s amazing, Steve.”

 

Steve’s surprised by the compliment, even more surprised by how much attention Tony is giving it, his gaze lingering on different parts, and though Steve knows Maria is an artist, he never really thought Tony had the attention span to actually learn an appreciation for artwork.  “Can I show my mom sometime?” he asks, blue gaze lifting to Steve’s, and Steve nods, smiling.  “Cool,” Tony says before he sits up, back curling as his spine pops in a few places, and Tony groans, straightening again and rotating his shoulder.  “Balls, man.  I’m sick of this.”

 

“You should probably stop stand practice for a while,” Steve says, putting his things away and standing up.  He leaves to wash his hands, and, when he returns, Tony’s shirtless in his bed, folded over in a forward bend.  He closes the door and comes over, carefully sitting behind Tony, who straightens.  Steve sighs, fingers flitting over the bruise on his side, and Tony winces.  “Does it hurt?” he asks.

 

“Only sometimes,” Tony says, reaching over to curl his hand around it, but his fingers brush against Steve’s, and he lingers, hand hovering just above his ribs.  “If you, uh, if you apply pressure,” Tony says, his breath coming a little short when Steve traces the length of one of his fingers, the pad of his thumb rolling down his knuckles, “Or when I breathe too deep.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve says, and then he pulls his hand away, closing his eyes.  Tony’s exhale is a little shaky, and so Steve moves his hands to his shoulder, slowly working out the tightness there.  When it’s a little looser, he massages up to his neck, and Tony tilts his head to the side, baring the long curve of his neck melting into his shoulder, and Steve wants to _taste_ him.  He inhales and holds his breath, thumbs smoothing over Tony’s muscled, tan skin, until his left hand is sliding down his back unbidden, along the ridges of his spine, and Steve looks up to see Tony’s eyes flutter shut, his lashes fanning out over his cheeks.  He sits there, perfectly poised, but Steve can see a sheen of goose bumps rise on his arms when Steve brushes a thumb over the curve of his jaw, back near his ear, and he grits his teeth.

 

He doesn’t want this, he _can’t_ want this, but then his hand is coming back up his spine, curling around his shoulder, and he wants nothing more than to shift closer, to press his hard cock against Tony’s lower back and lay a wet kiss over his neck, maybe trail up and bite his jaw, and so he squeezes his eyes shut, his hand tightening a little on Tony’s shoulder.

 

“Steve,” he whispers.

 

He doesn’t mean to, but Steve lets out a soft, barely audible groan and drops his head forward, temple resting between Tony’s shoulder blades.  He can feel him breathing from here, his breaths coming fast in a way that he recognizes as _want_ , and it makes his blood stir.

 

They sit there for a few seconds, just the sound of their breaths between them, until Tony turns his head, lips brushing over Steve’s fingers, and Steve jerks back, shaking his head to clear it.  “No,” he whispers, and then he’s hurrying off the bed, away from Tony even as he reaches for him.  “I, uh—I—I need to, uh—fuck,” he says, closing his eyes and turning away from Tony.  He takes a second to gather his thoughts, and then he says, “I need to take a shower.”

 

Tony stares at him, his breath caught in his throat, and, when Steve is gone, he closes his eyes and drops back against his bed, letting out a shaky breath.  “Holy fuck,” he murmurs, staring up at the ceiling.  His cock is absolutely _throbbing_ in his shorts, and all he can think about is the warmth of Steve behind him, the way his breaths fanned out over his back, short little bursts that gave everything away.  “Damn it,” Tony mutters, shifting until he can push his shorts down and curling his fingers around his cock.  He groans, fisting his hand up, letting his thumb slide over the head.  He didn’t think he could possibly get hard after the other night, but he finds himself jerking his dick in quick, breathless flicks, eyes squeezed shut, and it’s only a few minutes before he’s whining, toes curling in Steve’s sheets, his thighs trembling, and he comes with Steve’s name on his tongue.

 

In the shower, Steve stands under the cold spray, trying to stop his hands from shaking, but every time he closes his eyes, he sees the curve of Tony’s shoulders, the long slope of his neck, the ridge of his spine splitting his muscled back, and his hand is on his dick without realizing it.  He bites his fist, trying desperately to think of Sharon, to think of _anyone_ that isn’t Tony, but he can’t get his stupid, floppy hair out of his head, his brilliant, always excited blue eyes, his feral grin and his stupid, fond smile, and he comes with a gasp, his whole body tightening before he’s releasing with a tremor, and he swallows down Tony’s name.

 

——

 

The rest of October passes by in a calm blur, Tony throwing himself headlong into his classes while Steve starts to get more and more bored of his, though his drawings start to get more extravagant, more detailed, and Tony is always left in awe watching his progress.  They stop partying as much, though they do still go out occasionally, but they haven’t held one in their room since everything nearly broke.

 

Thanksgiving starts to approach, and Sara keeps pestering Steve to ask Tony over for break, and he keeps avoiding the actual conversation until Tony’s on the phone with his mom one night a few days before break.  He’s bored, all of his homework and extra work done, so he’s lying upside down on his bed, his legs propped up against the wall, and his hair hanging down in bouncing layers.

 

“My scorpion’s nearly there,” he says proudly, grinning when his mom laughs.

 

“I can’t imagine what your father would say if he saw you contorted like that,” she says, and Tony rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s not even that much of a contortion.  Hey, is he coming to get me for break, or are you?”

 

“Tony,” Maria says, and Tony frowns at her voice.

 

“I am coming home for break, right?” he asks, and Steve looks over, eyebrows lifted in concern.  Tony shrugs, meeting his gaze.

 

“Tony, I’m—I’m going to stay with my sister for a little while,” Maria says, and he deflates, just lying there, still for a moment, before he swings up and sits, legs crossed under him.  “I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to ruin your break, and—”

 

“Because going home to be alone with—with _him_ is so much better.  You’re just going to _leave me_?” Tony says, and he hates that his voice cracks, that it betrays him so easily, “Mom, I can’t go home if it’s just me and him.  I—I—”

 

“Tony, I’m so sorry, sweetie, but—”

 

“Mom, there’s no telling what will happen!”

 

“Is there any way you can stay there?” she asks.  Tony looks away, his jaw tight as he keeps quiet.  “Sweetheart,” Maria tries.

 

“Why would you do this to me?” he whispers.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, but Tony doesn’t look at him.  He frowns, pausing, and then, “You can come over mine if you want.”  Tony’s gaze snaps over to him, and he looks so hopeful that it makes Steve’s chest ache.  He shrugs to mask it.  “My mom’s been bugging me to ask,” he says, “That way, you wouldn’t have to go home alone or stay here alone.”

 

“Are you sure?” he asks, and Steve nods, smiling.

 

“Yeah, of course, man.”

 

“I don’t wanna impose on your family dinner,” Tony mumbles.

 

Steve shakes his head.  “Dude, you’re not.  I’m inviting you.  You’re coming home with me, and that’s just the end of it, so get over it.”

 

“You sound like me,” Tony says, smiling, “Mom, I gotta go.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“Steve’s invited me over to his for break, so I’m gonna go home with the Rogers’.  Give Aunt Rosalie my love.”

 

“Tony,” Maria sighs.

 

“I’m not mad, mom, I’m just—I’m upset, okay, but I get it.”

 

“I’m sorry, baby.”

 

“It’s okay.  I’d rather you be there.  At least you’re safe there.  Just—just promise me you’ll be home for winter break.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Alright, well.  I should go, I’m supposed to be seeing Luke in a bit.  Can you tell dad for me?”

 

“Of course,” Maria says, “I love you, Cher.”

 

“I love you, too, Sonny,” Tony says, and he can’t help his smile as he hangs up.  He stretches and then gets up, going to change.

 

“Are you really going over Luke’s?” Steve asks, gaze following him as he strips out of his sweats.  He’s pretty much given up on pretending he doesn’t like to look, and he thinks Tony knows, which might be why he lingers in his boxer briefs, rifling around for something to wear.  When he does finally shimmy into a pair of jeans, he leaves them hanging open, and Steve watches as he lifts his shirt up and over, tossing it toward his bed.  The bruise faded a while ago, and so Steve doesn’t frown every time he sees him like this.

 

“Enjoying the show?” Tony asks, turning as he pulls the shirt over his head.

 

“Maybe,” Steve says, taking his time before he looks up at Tony’s face.

 

“You’re hopeless,” Tony says, laughing and shaking his head.  He finds a sweatshirt, toes on a pair of socks and shoes, and then grabs his leather jacket and beanie.  “Don’t wait up, honey,” he says, winking as he heads for the door.

 

“Be safe,” Steve says, going back to his homework.

 

Tony stuffs his hands in his pockets when he gets outside, shrugging his shoulders up by his ears, wrinkling his nose against the cold.  By the time he gets to Luke’s, he’s shivering, and he hurries inside, jogging upstairs.  Luke is playing a video game when he calls for him to come in, and Tony comes over, shucking his jacket off and dumping it on the chair.  “Hey,” he says, dropping down next to Luke.

 

“You look like a fucking hipster,” Luke says, reaching over and plucking Tony’s beanie off.

 

“I was cold, asshole,” Tony says, punching his thigh and rolling his eyes, “Sorry I’m not up to your unreasonable standards.”

 

“ _Sorry_ if I prefer my men to not look like slobs.”

 

“Hey, I put jeans on this time,” Tony says, scooting up until he’s leaning against Luke’s pillows, their shoulders pressed together.

 

Luke saves his game and tosses his controller onto his desk before he turns toward Tony, but Tony lifts a shoulder, stopping him.  “Can we just hang out tonight?” he asks, dropping his shoulder again.

 

“Are you fucking serious?” Luke mutters, and Tony just looks back at him in response.  “You know, I’m getting real tired of this shit,” he says, getting up out of bed and going over to his closet.  He pulls out a pair of jeans, yanking them on.

 

“What, expecting some actual down time?” Tony says, sitting up, “God forbid I don’t want to fuck every time I see you.”

 

“What do you think the definition of fuck buddies is, idiot?  I’m not your boyfriend, Tony.  If I want to hang out, I’ll go see my girlfriend.  She never wants to have sex, either, and I definitely don’t need two of you.”

 

“Fine,” Tony spits, yanking his sweatshirt off, “Let’s go.”  Luke lifts an eyebrow, pausing with his foot halfway in a shoe.  Tony pulls his shirt off next, and then starts undoing his jeans.  “I’m gonna start without you, asshole,” Tony mutters, and Luke grins, coming back over.

 

He pulls Tony’s jeans off the rest of the way when he gets there and then disrobes quickly himself, climbing back into bed.  He starts to kiss down Tony’s front, but Tony needs to distract himself, needs to get lost in something, so he pulls Luke back up and presses their mouths together, kissing him hotly.  There’s not usually a lot of kissing involved, but Tony needs it right now, and Luke lets him have it, slotting their bodies together as one of his hands drifts lower, taking Tony’s cock in hand and jerking him until he’s actually starting to want it a little, and he groans when Luke kisses away from his mouth and down along his throat.  “Flip over,” Luke says, and Tony does as he’s told, turning onto his stomach and turning his head.  Luke mouths his way down his back, a map of teeth and tongue and lips until he’s pressing his tongue against Tony’s entrance, and it’s enough that Tony starts to respond, hips shifting down into the mattress.

 

“Luke,” he whines eventually, pulling at him, “Just fuck me already.  Stop teasing.”

 

Luke kisses his ass, and then reaches over to his desk for lube and a condom.  It’s slow, slower than Tony wants, and though it’s good, though his body feels like it’s on fire, and he’s begging for release, he just wants it to be over.

 

When Luke comes, his fingers curling tight over Tony’s bad shoulder, thrusting in and stilling, Tony’s still hard and leaking.  Luke drops down beside him, tossing the condom toward his desk, and he’s about to speak when he notices Tony’s cock.  “Really?” he says, looking up at Tony, who shrugs one shoulder.  “I like a challenge,” Luke says, grinning before he slides down Tony’s body, and he sucks his cock like he was meant to be on his knees.

 

Though he’s hard, Tony could really care less if he has an orgasm, but then his phone buzzes from where he left it on the windowsill, and he looks over, Steve’s picture filling the screen.  He thinks about the way his breaths seared across his back, his temple pressed to his spine, and his fingers curl in Luke’s hair, pulling.  He thinks about the thrum of their bodies pressed together, Steve’s hand sliding lower until it was curling over Tony’s cock and squeezing, thinks about how they’d been tilted toward each other, Steve’s gaze on Tony’s mouth.  He thinks about Steve trying to speak after he’d nearly sprinted off the bed, thinks about his voice, pitched low, _fuck_ , and Tony’s orgasm hits him like a tidal wave, rocketing through him as he shouts, cock pulsing in Luke’s mouth.

 

When Luke pulls off, his mouth is swollen and turned up in a smirk, so Tony grabs at him and hauls him up toward him, kissing him.  They lie together for a bit, just breathing in each other’s space, until Tony gives his chest a little slap, and says, “We should watch a movie.”

 

“Sure,” Luke mumbles, “Anything specific?”

 

“Oh, dude, Steve and I watched this awesome movie a couple weeks ago, and it was—what?” he breaks off at Luke’s scoff.

 

“Unintelligent, I’m sure,” he says, stretching and sitting, leaning over to reach for his boxers.

 

“Oh my god,” Tony bemoans, rolling his eyes, “This again?  Really?”

 

“What else do you expect me to say?” Luke snaps back, “Your roommate is an _art_ major.  The liberals aren’t exactly fit to be socializing with us.”

 

“ _Us_?” Tony repeats, sitting, as well, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Let me spell it out for you,” Luke says, turning to him, “You are a certified genius, Tony, and you should be surrounding yourself with people like me, who can actually understand you at full capacity, and instead, your best friend dabbles in painting and stupid little doodles.  Don’t even get me started on those _science_ majors.”

 

“Betty and Bruce _are_ science majors!” Tony exclaims, leaning over the bed for his clothes, “What the hell is your problem?  I thought we talked about this!  I thought you were going to stop with the superior to everyone complex!”

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Luke says, shaking his head in disbelief, “We _are_ superior to everyone, Tony.  Nuclear physics, _really_?  Please, Bruce Banner is a joke, and his girlfriend is just some science groupie who likes to play around with chemistry sets.  She’s—” he’s cut off as Tony comes storming across the room, and he staggers back as Tony fists meets his jaw.  “I’ve never—”

 

“Get used to it, you pretentious douchebag,” Tony spits before he goes back, yanking on his clothes.  Luke tries to pull him back, but Tony just lets his hand swing, and he catches Luke _hard_ across the face with a backhand.  “Fucking touch me again, and I will fucking _destroy you_!” he screams, fist coming around to sucker punch him.  Luke goes down, groaning, and Tony finishes dressing before he leaves, muttering to himself as he yanks his jacket on, pulls his beanie down too far and has to push it back up, and, by the time he’s outside, he’s fuming.

 

When he gets back to the room, he slams the door so hard it rattles, and he paces back and forth until he’s feeling claustrophobic in his clothes, so he strips out of everything but his jeans and shirt, goes over to his desk to rifle through it until he finds his marijuana stash, and rolls himself a blunt before he stomps off to shut off the lights and then hide in the closet.

 

He’s barely been in there for fifteen minutes, halfway through his blunt, when the door starts jingling, something thuds against the door, and then the handle’s turning.  Tony looks over at the closet door, leaning to the side so he can hear better.

 

“Is Tony home?” Sharon’s voice echoes through the room, but it’s lower than usual, and she sounds a little breathless.  Tony’s jaw drops open as he hears the lock click, and he tries to figure out which would be better, just sitting here or letting them know he’s in there.

 

“No, he went to Luke’s,” Steve mutters, his voice muffled, and Tony claps a hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide.

 

“Good,” Sharon says, and then something’s hitting the wall across from the closet.

 

“Shut up,” Tony mouths.  He takes another pull on his blunt and then gets up as quietly as he can, tiptoeing over and peering through the crack in the door.  He can barely see, but he can make out Sharon flush against Steve, who’s backed into the wall.  Steve’s belt clinks in the silence, and then Sharon’s tugging open his jeans and pushing them down.

 

“Sharon,” Steve groans as she pulls away from him and drops to her knees, pulling his jeans and boxer briefs down.

 

Tony swallows down a whine because he _can’t see_.

 

Steve’s voice echoes in his head, his name rolling on Tony’s tongue, whispered like sin, and Tony closes his eyes, pulling it all back, finally looking at every moment between them, and if he holds it all there, if he slots each moment together, then it makes sense.  He knows what Steve is trying not to admit, and he thinks—he hopes, god, he hopes, because if he gets this wrong, there will never be a chance between them—that if he takes this chance, he might be able to actually make some progress with them.

 

Steve’s groan pulls him back to the present, and Tony takes another drag of his blunt for good measure, puts it out in one of the many ash trays hidden in the closet, and then takes a few deep breaths before he reaches for the handle on the closet, turning it as quietly as he can.  He opens the door slowly, his heart thudding _hard_ in his chest, and then he looks up, and Steve is staring at him, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open, and Tony feels everything settle in him until he’s straightening and leaning against the wall of the closet, door pinned against his hip.

 

Tony lets his gaze rake over Steve, his mouth turning up into a wicked smirk as Sharon pulls back, nose rubbing against his thigh, and Steve looks down in time for her to look up.  “Good?” she asks, and he nods quickly.

 

“Fuck yeah,” he says, and Tony swallows down a laugh.

 

His cock is beautiful, sitting heavy against his thigh, thick and wanting, the head swollen from Sharon’s mouth, and Tony reaches down, undoing the button on his jeans as he lifts his gaze again.  Steve isn’t breathing, his blue eyes _fixed_ on Tony, who slides a hand beneath his jeans and briefs, eyes fluttering shut as he cups his hard cock, squeezing.  He rubs, heel pushing against his dick, and Steve groans, “Fuck.”

 

Sharon hums, and Steve reaches a hand down, fingers fisting in her hair, coming around to cup the base of her head as his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.  Tony opens his eyes again, keeping his gaze fixed on Steve, who moans, head dropping back against the wall.  He keeps staring at Tony, and he can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe he’s _letting_ this happen.  He can see, in his periphery, Tony’s hand moving beneath his jeans, but that’s not what makes his stomach twist in knots.  It’s his eyes, his damn blue eyes, staring back at him with as much desire as Steve feels every time they sit too close, every time Tony pulls him close and dances in time to whatever is thumping through the room, every time Tony’s breath ghosts over his skin when they’re lying in bed together.

 

He doesn’t mean to, but his lips form Tony’s name, silent, but Tony’s eyes get a little wider when he does, and he pulls his lip in, teeth scraping over it.  Steve whines softly, gaze darting down to his mouth, hips twitching forward when one corner curls up into a crooked grin.  He loves all of his smiles, whether it’s the ridiculous, goofy face he makes when he’s flailing about, or the feral one he gets when his eyes start glinting, when Steve’s knows he’s going to regret something, or the fond one, the one he wears only when he’s feeling quiet, when he’s alone with his three best friends, or the wicked one, the one that makes Steve’s blood stir, that makes him want to pin Tony to whatever is the nearest available surface, and map out his body with his tongue, the one that makes him want to hold Tony close and taste every stretch of skin he can find.

 

Sharon’s hand drifts back to his balls at the same time Steve looks back up to Tony’s eyes, and he can feel his impending orgasm in the low pull in his belly.  “Tony,” he whispers, so soft Sharon won’t be able to hear him, but Tony does, or knows that he says it aloud, and his eyes slide closed, his hand moving quicker beneath his jeans.

 

Steve gasps, breath hitching up as his thighs tremble, and Sharon pulls back, sucking at the head, tongue pressing along the slit.  “Fuck,” Steve groans, and he needs Tony to look at him, needs to see his eyes and his mouth and _him_.

 

Tony opens his eyes again, his lips parting as he pants, and he’s so close, his body aches from straying away from the edge.  He wants to watch Steve come, and so he slows his hand until he’s just lazily palming himself.

 

He can hear the whine before it’s fully formed, this low sound tearing out from Steve’s throat, and then Sharon’s sucking _hard_ , nosing down the length of his cock and back, and Steve gasps, gaze locked on Tony’s, as his cock throbs in Sharon’s mouth, his nails biting into his fist as Tony licks his lips, glancing down to watch until he hears Steve’s groan, this loud, gorgeous thing, and he looks back up quickly, choking back a soft noise as Steve comes, head thudding back against the wall, his lashes fluttering but eyes refusing to close as he continues to stare at Tony.

 

He needs to come so bad, his dick fucking _hurts_ , and he lingers only long enough for Steve to pull his head back up, and then Steve fucking _grins_ , and Tony almost gives himself away.  He jerks away from the doorway, closes the closet as quickly as he can, and _falls_ onto the beanbag, yanking down his jeans.  He’s tripping over the edge in seconds, biting his lip so hard it nearly bleeds as he comes in thick ropes across his stomach, striped over his shirt, and he lies there, shaking, as Steve says, “Hold on, I think someone texted me, let me just make sure it wasn’t Tony.”

 

Sharon whines as Steve takes his phone from his jeans, sighing as he pretends to look at a text.  “He’s on his way back,” he lies, and Tony shakes his head, nearly laughing.

 

“I can convince my roommate to scram for a couple hours,” Sharon says, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick.”

 

Steve nods, leaning forward to kiss her.  She smiles before heading out, and Steve waits a few seconds before pushing away from the wall, pulling up his jeans, and then tugging the closet door open.  Tony looks up, waving lazily.  His cock is still out, his jeans down around his knees, and he’s got one hand resting against his stomach, the other hanging off the beanbag.  “Fair’s fair, take a look,” he says, and Steve actually fucking _looks_ , taking Tony in, and he thinks, maybe, this is it, this is the moment where he admits that okay, maybe he might not be always straight because _holy fuck_ , he feels his cock stirring just at the sight of Tony’s.

 

Steve looks back up, shrugging one shoulder.  “What now?” Steve asks, and Tony lets out a laugh that’s really just a burst of air.

 

“Fuck if I know,” Tony says, tipping his head back, “I’ve never been in this kind of situation.  You continue to shock me at every turn.  I’m kind of just making this up as I go along.”

 

He looks back up at Steve, and Steve nods.  “Yeah, I—I don’t really know what—” and then he’s jumping out of the doorway, shutting the closet, and turning.

 

“Ready?” Sharon asks as she opens the door.

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, smiling as he reaches for his jacket.

 

Tony barely holds it together until the door closes again, and then he bursts out laughing, rolling over and burying his face in the beanbag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL THEN. I’m not going to say much because I’m just sitting here grinning like an idiot, but I will say this scene was 100% inspired by _Kill Your Darlings_ —if you have the chance, watch it multiple times. Erin and I are in love with that film, and we flailed so much over it, and then, after we first watched it, she just turned to me and said, “They need to do the scene.” So, they did the scene.
> 
> And, oh, Maria. I’m so excited you guys are finally starting to see more of her. Winter break is coming up, where we’ll have tons of time to spend with her and Tony, and I’m so excited for it. However, let’s talk about that end scene just a tiny bit. Oh, just wait. One of the most interesting sections of this story for me to write is what’s coming next—Thanksgiving break. Oh boy. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	10. Chapter 10

It’s the night before they’re due home, and they’ve spent the afternoon blasting ridiculous music they can jam out to while they pack, and now they’re on opposite sides of the room.

 

It’s taking all of Steve’s willpower to stay at his desk, and every time he starts to get a little fidgety, he just keeps muttering to himself, _stay here, stay here, stay here, do not fucking go over there, Rogers, or he will make it impossible to ever turn back_.  And so he forces himself to stay at his desk, to keep working on his homework, but Tony won’t stop fucking _moving_.

 

He taps away at his computer for barely a half hour before he’s groaning and flailing over onto his bed, flopping around until he’s hanging upside down, and Steve looks over at him.  “You okay?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“I am restlessly bored.”

 

“Double check that you packed everything,” Steve says, and Tony just points at him before toppling off the bed and going to check through his things.  When he’s done, he paces around the room before unrolling his mat.  Instead of actually doing a routine, though, he just works through some new moves, and then starts stand practice until he’s too quiet, and Steve looks over his shoulder worriedly, sighing when he sees him with an arm inside the microwave, taking it apart.

 

“Alright, on your feet,” Steve says, pushing away from his desk.  Tony looks over at him with this deer in headlights expression, and Steve snorts, reaching to pull off his socks.  “Let’s go, we’re sparring,” Steve says, and Tony just shrugs, clambering to his feet and going over to change out of his jeans.

 

When they’re ready, they stand opposite one another, and Tony lifts his hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Steve falls into an offensive stance.  There’s a moment of stillness before Tony leaps forward, and his hand comes up, but Steve slaps it away.  They dance back and forth, and Steve’s impressed by how long Tony manages to hold his own before he’s twisting his arm back and sending him crashing to the ground.  Tony laughs, looking up at Steve.  “Finally got me on my back, pecks,” he says, grinning, and Steve rolls his eyes, holding out a hand to help him up.

 

They go again, and Tony holds out longer this time until he’s misjudging Steve’s speed, and he stumbles through a move, so Steve catches him and pins him to the ground.  “Jesus, take it easy,” Tony teases, and then he’s knocking Steve’s wrists out from under him, pushing upward, and slipping out from underneath him.  Steve looks up at him, surprised.

 

“Nice one,” he admits, and Tony just shrugs, settling into his stance again.  He knows how Steve fights now, and so he’s quicker, sliding through Steve’s moves until he catches him off guard, and he knocks them over, landing on top of Steve, his knee thudding against the ground as he throws his hands out, catching himself.

 

Tony exhales, and then stops breathing because he’s straddling Steve, his hands on either side of his head, their bodies inches from each other.  Steve just stares up at him, his mouth open, and it breaks Tony.  He rolls his hips down, grinding down into Steve’s lap, and Steve groans, head tipping back and baring his throat.

 

Tony darts down, pressing a wet kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat before he sucks the skin there between his teeth, tongue coming out to soothe over it.  His hips move in quick, fluid rolls, and his breath stutters out of him as Steve’s hands come up to grip at his waist, fingers tight and hot.  “Steve,” he gasps against his neck, leaning his temple against Steve’s jaw as he rocks them together, presses the hard curve of his cock down against Steve’s.  They’re wearing their yoga shorts, and it pretty much leaves nothing to the imagination—not that Tony needs to imagine anymore—but Tony wants none of it, wants to be naked, wants to be closer, wants to feel Steve pressed against him, _inside of him_.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve says, one of his hands sliding up to fist in Tony’s shirt, nails scraping against his back as the other one slides down, cupping Tony’s ass, squeezing, pressing him closer.

 

Tony moans, bringing his mouth back down to Steve’s neck, kissing along the column of his throat until he’s pulling the hem of his shirt down and nibbling along his collarbone until he reaches the small dip between them and bites, bruising him with his mouth.  Steve is panting beneath him, hips rolling up to meet Tony’s, and Tony thinks he could probably die happy right this very second.

 

His other forearm comes down, fingers threading through Steve’s blonde locks, and he lifts his head, biting his jaw before he rubs their noses together, and then the door opens.  Tony jerks his head up, staring at Betty in horror, who gapes down at him.

 

“Oh my god!” she shrieks a second later, running back out of the room.  “I’m so sorry, continue!” she calls back into the room.

 

Tony looks back down, and he knows, he fucking knows.  “Tony,” Steve says, his hands sliding back to his hips, holding him, “We should—”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says even as he grinds back down, eyes rolling back as Steve sighs beneath him.  He gets a little lost, just moving slowly, and Steve starts to close his eyes, starts to let him keep going, but then he hears Betty’s giggle in the hallway, and his hands tighten on Tony’s hips, thumbs pressing in as he lifts him up.  “Steve,” he whines even as he pulls his leg up, dropping onto his knees beside him.  Steve sits, lifting a hand and scrubbing it through his hair.  He looks over at Tony, looks at his fucking _mouth_ , open and waiting, and it terrifies him that he wants to kiss him, wants to lick into his mouth and memorize the way his mouth moves against his.

 

When he looks back up to Tony’s eyes, they’re wide, blue a thin line around his lust-blown pupils, and Steve groans softly, leaning forward, dropping his head to Tony’s shoulder.  Tony leans down, pressing a kiss to his ear, hand coming up to thread in Steve’s hair again, and they sit there for a few moments, just leaning into each other, before Steve gets up and goes over to pick up his jeans.

 

Tony doesn’t hate Betty, he absolutely does not, but he maybe gives her the silent treatment until they get to the caf, and she tugs him off to the side.  “ _What_ was that?” she asks, and Tony just shakes his head.

 

“I have no fucking clue,” he says.

 

——

 

Tony’s off saying goodbye to Betty and Bruce when Sara arrives.  Steve lets her in, knocks on the super couple’s door as they pass by, and continues down the hall with his mom.  “How are things with Tony?” Sara asks as Steve lets them into their room.

 

Steve laughs and shakes his head.  “I don’t know, mom,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair before he lifts his backpack, shouldering it, “I’m really confused.”

 

“In what way?” she asks, frowning as Steve turns.

 

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, “These—things keep happening between us.”

 

“Things?” Sara repeats, “Like what kind of things?”

 

“Like—not straight things.”

 

Sara nods, and she comes over after a moment, lifting her hands to cup Steve’s face.  “Consensual not straight things?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, “Like—shit, mom, I _like_ it.”

 

“Do you like him?  Like—like _like_?”

 

“Oh my god,” Steve groans, pulling away from her and shaking his head, “I don’t know, I don’t—I don’t know, mom, okay, but I’m kind of freaking out, and—hey,” he breaks off as the door opens, and he waves to Tony, who gives him a strange look.

 

Steve knows it’s ridiculous—he just saw him an hour ago, but he can’t help smiling as he takes him in.  He was feeling lazy this morning, so he didn’t put much effort into his outfit rather than to grab a clean pair of jeans, a blue and green flannel, and he barely made his hair look presentable, though enough that Steve wants to thread his fingers through it and pull.

 

“Hey, Mrs. Rogers,” Tony says, smiling as he heads across the room to get his things, “Thank you so much for letting me come over this break.”

 

“Of course, Tony.  And it’s Sara, and you better not make me tell you again.”

 

“Yes, _Sara_ ,” he says, and she shakes her head at him.

 

“Come on, you two, I wanna get home in time for dinner.  The girls are very excited to meet you, Tony.”

 

Tony just grins and shoulders his backpack.

 

——

 

They’re on the ride home, and Tony’s in the back when he falls asleep.  Sara looks up at him through the rearview mirror and then smacks Steve.  “What?” he says, looking over at her in confusion.

 

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” she says, “Telling me that you’re interested in your roommate right before he walks in the room so I can’t talk to you about it, _god_.”

 

“ _Mom_ ,” Steve says, glancing toward the back.

 

“He’s asleep, and thank goodness, too.  I thought I told you to keep an eye on him.”

 

“I have been!” Steve exclaims.

 

“Clearly not,” Sara says, pointing an angry finger at Steve, “When was the last time he had a decent meal or night’s rest?  That boy is wasting away.  It’s a good thing he’s coming over.  I’ll fatten him right up.”

 

“Oh my god,” Steve groans, covering his face with his hands, “You’re so ridiculous.”

 

Sara smacks him again.  “Talk to me.  What’s going on?  What _has_ gone on?  Have you kissed him?”

 

“Not—on the mouth,” Steve says, and Sara nearly swerves as her head whips around to stare at him.  “No!” Steve almost shouts, and then looks back at Tony again.  “Not like that,” he says, his voice dropping, “Just—shoulders, neck, places that aren’t the mouth, and it’s really starting to piss me off.”

 

“Okay,” Sara says, “Anything else?”

 

“Mom, this is weird.”

 

“Tell me, or I’ll pull this damn car over,” she says, looking over at Steve.

  
He holds up his hands in defense before he says, “Okay, okay, fine.  There’s been—Jesus, mom, there’s been dancing, okay, and we may have ended up on the floor after sparring yesterday and— _stuff_.”

 

“Steve.”

 

“Oh god, no, please don’t do it.”

 

“Have you slept with him in any form?”

 

“ _No_ ,” Steve says, looking pointedly out the window, “You’re going to tell dad, aren’t you?”

 

“Of course I am.  Unless—Steve, unless you want to talk to him yourself.”

 

“I don’t even know what to talk about, mom, I don’t know what’s going on.  I don’t know if—if maybe—I don’t _know_.”

 

“Hey,” Sara says, reaching over and taking his hand, “It’s okay, sweetie.  If you don’t want to talk about it, then we won’t, but I’m here for you, no matter what.”  Steve looks over at her, and she nods.  “Now,” Sara says, taking her hand back, “How does Sharon fit into all this?”

 

“Well, that’s just a whole mess now,” Steve says with a sigh before he launches into the story of Sharon.

 

——

 

When they get back to the house, it’s around five, and Steve reaches back as Sara parks, hand curling around Tony’s knee as he shakes him.  Tony emits a small noise when he wakes, blinking as he tries to orient himself.  “Oh, sorry,” he mumbles, reaching up to rub one of his eyes, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

 

“It’s cool.  We’re here.”  Steve looks back toward the front door, smiling when he sees his sisters.  “Prepare yourself, the girls are primed and ready.”

 

Tony laughs softly, though it melts into a yawn, and he gets out of the car slowly, pulling on his leather jacket once he’s outside.  They go around back to get their things, and then Steve’s leading the way, pausing at the door as Emma runs forward and launches herself at him.  “Hey kiddo,” he says, squeezing her tightly with his left arm as he opens the other for Riley and Leah.  They all embrace him before stepping back, and he sets Emma down.  “Get inside,” he says, herding her forward.

 

They’ve asked him nearly a dozen questions by the time he steps over the threshold, Tony in tow, and he shushes them, giving Emma a kick in the butt when she stops in front of him for a third time.  “Guys, come on, let us in the house,” he says, and they start whining, turning into the kitchen.

 

Steve makes a pit stop, motioning for Tony to follow, and he does so slowly, looking around.  The kitchen is big, but full of people, and Tony smiles, waving as he enters.  “Guys, this is Tony.  Tony, this is little Emma Jean, whom you’ve already met, Riley, and Leah.  Say hello,” he adds when they all just stare at Tony.

 

“Hi,” they say at once before Emma’s coming over and crossing her arms over her chest, looking up at him.

 

Tony quickly assumes the same position, looking down at her.  “And?” he says, quirking an eyebrow.

 

Emma gasps, staring at him in shock.  “Steve, he can lift only one of his eyebrows!  Oh my _gosh_!  Will you teach me how to do that?” she says, uncrossing her arms and holding up one of her hands.

 

Tony shrugs one shoulder and takes her hand.  “Maybe,” he says, “But only if you tell me a joke.”

 

“I’ll have to think of one,” she says seriously, nodding, “Come on, I’ll show you where Steve’s room is.”  Tony looks over at Steve, who nods, and so he lets Emma lead him out of the kitchen and down the hall.

 

“You didn’t tell us he was _cute_!” Leah gasps, smacking Steve.

 

“Why does everyone keep hitting me?” he whines, giving her a shove, “Also, he’s gay.”

 

“Really?” Riley says, glancing at the empty doorway.

 

“Well,” Steve amends, sighing, “I don’t actually know if he’s gay or straight, he kind of just—does what he wants.”

 

Joe laughs from the counter.  “I remember those days.”

 

“Okay, yeah, I don’t need to know that,” Steve says before he turns out of the kitchen.  He goes down the hall, takes the stairs, and heads down to his room, the last on the right.

 

Tony’s sitting on his bed, cross-legged, Emma opposite him, and he’s holding one of her eyebrows while she tries to raise the other one.  “Hopeless,” he says finally, taking his hand back and shaking his head, “We’ll have to keep at it.”

 

“Well, we have the whole week!” Emma exclaims, “After you unpack, can I show you my room, Tony?”

 

“Sure thing, Emmie,” he says, tapping her nose, and she giggles before sliding off the bed and running out.

 

“My sisters are in love with you,” Steve says, closing the door.

 

“Of course they are.  Have you _seen_ me?” Tony says, hooking his arms behind his head and tipping back.  “Your room is pretty awesome,” he says, looking around, “Says a lot about you.”

 

“I’m sure yours is enormous and full of ridiculous technology,” Steve says, dropping his backpack on the ground before he climbs up onto his bed—a queen, thank god, he’s sick of trying to fit both of them on that twin—and settles next to Tony.

 

“Dude, wall’s my side, fuck off,” Tony says, giving him a shove, and Steve just laughs and pushes him off the bed.  Tony hits the floor flailing, with a thud, and Steve laughs louder, rolling over onto his stomach and making a face at him.  “You suck,” Tony whines, trying to kick him and missing.

 

They lounge around for a bit before getting up to unpack, and Steve clears out a drawer for Tony to use for the week.  When they’re just about finished, Sara calls them down for dinner, and they eat in the kitchen at the island.  At the Stark mansion, dinner is a quiet, reserved affair, even when they have guests over, and so Tony’s a little taken aback at just how much they _talk_.  Emma tells a story for nearly ten minutes that boils down to someone brought a Star Wars figurine to show and tell and no one knew what it was but her.  Leah goes on and on and on about this bitchy girl at school who’s trying to run for vice president of the drama club.  Riley tells them all about this new band she discovered, and Tony’s fairly certain he knows their entire life story by the time dinner is over.  Sara tells hilarious stories from her shift at the hospital the other day, and Joe makes crude jokes that Sara yells at him for.  Steve asks a million and one questions until even Tony is laughing at him, and then, halfway through dinner, suddenly they’re turning on him.

 

“So, Steve tells us you’re hoping to pick up another major next year, Tony,” Sara says.

 

Tony nods.  “Yeah, physics is up next.”

 

“Just like that?”

 

“A major a year, hopefully.”

 

They all stare at him, and he glances at Steve, bewildered.  “Not everyone is a genius, Tony, remember?”  Tony rolls his eyes and elbows him.

 

“Are you really a genius?” Emma says, looking skeptically at him.

 

“I am,” Tony says, grinning, “For reals.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Emma says, shaking her head.

 

“Don’t you have to be certified to _actually_ be a genius?” Leah challenges.

 

“Yeah, there’s a series of IQ tests and a bunch of other mumbo jumbo,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder, “Got certified when I was thirteen.”

 

“Shit, Tony,” Joe says.

 

“Joseph,” Sara says, smacking him.

 

“Sorry, mother,” he teases, “So, what’s next after college?”

 

“MIT for grad school, and then Harvard for my masters,” Tony says, and Joe whistles.

 

“For sure?”

 

“Well, MIT accepted, Harvard’s still in the works.”

 

“Bagged yourself a brainiac, kiddo,” Joe says, winking at Steve, who makes a face at him.

 

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Riley asks.

 

“I do not.  Just me,” Tony says, and Riley frowns.

 

“Why aren’t you at home with your parents, then?”

 

Tony swallows, and Steve starts to answer when he says, “My mom went to my aunt’s, so your brother was cool enough to let me come over so I didn’t have to stay at school all alone.”

 

“What about your dad?” Emma asks.

 

“I don’t have a dad,” Tony says, and Steve looks over at Tony in shock, but he ignores him, keeping his gaze fixed on Emma, “Just me and my mom.”

 

“That’s sad,” she says, sighing, though she keeps her frown only for a few seconds before she’s perking up again and exclaiming, “Steve said you know how to do handstands!  Can you show me after dinner?”

 

“Absolutely!” Tony says, and Emma leans over for a high five, so Tony slaps her hand, grinning.

 

They continue interrogating him until Emma decides to turn her attention on Steve, and then he’s under the spotlight for a while.  Eventually, dinner is over, and Steve takes Tony upstairs after promising to be down in a half hour to do yoga for Emma.

 

When they get into his room, Steve watches Tony go over to his backpack, dropping to one knee as he opens it up.  “Why did you say you didn’t have a dad?” Steve finally asks, going to sit on his bed.

 

“I might as well not,” Tony mumbles, frowning as he looks through the main part.

 

“Dude, but you _do_.  I know it sucks, but at least you have a father.”

 

Tony snorts, shaking his head.  “If you can call Howard a father,” he mutters.  He gives up on the main part and starts looking through the front section.

 

He’s starting to get nervous when Steve sighs and says, “Tony, I just—”

 

“Do you remember seeing me pack my meds?” he asks, looking over at Steve.

 

“I think so,” Steve says, though he sounds unsure, “Did you look in the side pockets?”  Tony does so, and then he sits back on his heels, letting out an audible exhale.  “Maybe they’re in your suitcase somewhere,” Steve says, getting up and going over to Tony’s suitcase.

 

“I could probably last until we get back,” Tony says, “The last couple days will be absolute shit, but I might be able to hold out.”

 

“Dude, if they’re not here, we’ll go back.  I’m not gonna let you go without them,” Steve says, pulling open the different sections of Tony’s suitcase.

 

“Steve!” Tony exclaims suddenly, flapping a hand at him, “They’re in your bag!”  He jumps up, running over to Steve’s desk and flipping open the bag that contains his art supplies.  He digs through it, mindful of the supplies inside, and then makes a triumphant noise when his hand hits one of his pill bottles.  “Cos we knew I’d forget,” Tony says, flashing him a grin.

 

“Jesus, how many did you take with you?” Steve asks as he comes over and Tony starts setting them on his desk.

 

“The main ones, just in case.  It is _absurd_ how many wrong things I’ve been diagnosed with.”

 

“I think depression’s probably a pretty viable one,” Steve says, lifting one of the bottles.

 

“Yeah, the brain has its moments.  ADD, though?  Not a chance.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, “You’re in the statistic of students who abuse Ritalin?”

 

“Or Adderall, it depends on the day and what I find first.  There you are,” he adds, uncapping the diuretics.

 

There’s a knock on the door as he knocks two out onto his palm, and Steve goes to pull it open, admitting Leah.  “Hey, what’s up?” he says, letting her in.

 

“Not much,” she says, glancing over at Tony, who throws back the diuretics and then looks through the others, deciding if he wants to take anything else.  “I was hoping I could talk to you about something.  What are you doing?” she adds, looking at Tony.

 

“Did you take the uppers?” Tony says, looking over at Steve, “Give them.”

 

“Why, agreeing with your depression?”

 

“You made me talk about my father, asshole,” he says, snatching the bottle out of his hand.  “I’m putting these back in your bag,” he continues after he pops back a pill and then caps the bottle.

 

“Sure you don’t want to abuse your Ritalin?” Steve mutters as he turns toward his bed.

 

“Not unless you wanna stay up all night,” Tony counters, sticking his tongue out at Steve, who just rolls his eyes and pats the bed next to him.

 

“Is everything okay?” he asks as Leah sits next to him.

 

Leah shrugs one shoulder before leaning against him.  “There’s this guy at school.”

 

Tony realizes, all at once, what he’s suddenly being privy to, and he turns, softening a little.  “Want me to go hide in the bathroom?” he asks, looking over at Leah.

 

She stares at him for a few moments before shaking her head, straightening and patting the bed next to her.  “Maybe you can help,” she says, offering him a small smile.

 

“Cool, gossip time,” Tony sings, reaching over to close the door before he skips over and flops down.  “Is he a hot boy?”

 

“Are you gay?” Leah asks, looking down at him.

 

“I don’t like labels,” Tony says, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

“You’re right, he is weird,” Leah murmurs to Steve, and Tony just laughs and reaches up, hand curling around Leah’s elbow so he can pull her down.  Steve lays down with them, as well, and Leah sighs, shifting around until she can rest her head on Steve’s stomach, her legs draped over Tony.  “So, there’s this guy, Alex, that I’ve known since pretty much forever.”

 

“Alex,” Steve groans.

 

Tony quirks an eyebrow at him, but Leah smacks him, so Tony makes a mental note to ask him later about that.  “Yes, Alex, shut up,” she says, “I know you don’t like him, and I know you think he’s been stringing me along since middle school, but I really like him, Steve.  And it’s been different lately, ever since September, and I don’t know what to do.”

 

“What do you mean by different?” Tony asks.

 

Leah looks down at him, sighing.  “There’s just—there’s these _moments_ ,” she says, turning her gaze up to the ceiling, “All these little moments, and I don’t know what to make of them.  Whenever we’re at someone’s house, when no one’s looking, he’ll kiss my shoulder, or one time my ear, and just things like that, and sometimes we hold hands, and—and you can’t tell mom, Steve, but he snuck over the other night, and we just slept in my bed, just cuddling, and I don’t know what it means.”

 

Steve looks over at Tony, whose gaze is fixed on Leah, listening intently, and he can’t help but think of the other day, the way Tony had brushed their noses together, how his lips had tilted down a second before the door opened, and they’d been _so close_ , he could taste Tony’s breath on his lips.

 

“Maybe he’s starting to realize he likes you, too,” Tony says, reaching out a hand.  Leah gives hers over, letting Tony tangle their fingers together, thumb brushing over the back of her hand in small circles.

 

“That!” Leah says, pointing at Tony with her other hand, and Tony nods.

 

“He likes you,” he says, shrugging and taking his hand back, “At least, that’s how I tell people.”

 

“So you’ve been with guys before?”

 

“How old are you?” Tony asks.

 

“Sixteen, and it’s not like I’m a virgin or anything, so—”

 

“Oh my god!” Steve yelps, and Leah looks up at him in shock.

 

“Shit,” she says.  There’s a moment of quiet before Tony bursts out laughing.  Leah looks down at him in horror.  “It’s not funny!” she exclaims, “Steve, I—”

 

“Oh, it’s funny,” Tony cuts her off.  He reaches over, punching Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, I wish I had siblings, this is awesome.”

 

“Shut up, Tony,” he groans, covering his eyes with one of his hands.  “Leah, really?”

 

“What, it’s not like _you’re_ a virgin.  Wait,” she says, turning her attention back to Tony, “So have you been with a girl?”

 

“I have slept with both men and women, yes,” Tony says, “Sometimes at the same time.”

 

“That’s kind of slutty.”

 

“You’re the one who just admitted she’s not a virgin anymore at sixteen,” Tony counters with, and even Steve looks over at him in disbelief.

 

“Okay, miss purity, when did you lose yours?” he asks, and Tony grins, showing his teeth.

 

“You don’t wanna know,” he says, and Steve rolls his eyes, “ _Fine_ , Stephen.  When I was fourteen—you?”

 

“Sixteen,” Steve says.

 

“It’s not that bad, then!” Leah exclaims, smacking him, “I was only fifteen, it’s just a year younger.”

 

“Have you told mom?” Steve asks, nodding when Leah does.  “Yeah, of course you did, so did I.”

 

“You told your mom when you had sex for the first time?” Tony asks, looking over in shock.

 

“You didn’t?” Steve asks, “With your mom, I figured you would have.”

 

“I mean, she knows, obviously, but she didn’t, not until—” and then Tony stops talking, and Steve doesn’t know why it occurs to him, but he remembers that night, remembers Tony’s bruised ribs and his split lip, remembers the panic attack and the nightmare, remembers wondering if this had happened to him before, and it occurs to him that maybe this all started before college.

 

“Are you gonna watch yoga?” he changes the subject, nudging Leah.

 

“I thought yoga was just stretching,” she says, and Tony snorts.

 

“We’re not friends until you take that back,” he says, pushing her legs off him and getting up, “Yoga is an art form, and it’s very difficult.  We do core yoga, which is more intense than regular yoga, and we’ve been practicing acroyoga, which is pretty much the most badass thing ever.”

 

“Tony,” Leah says when he strips out of his jeans.

 

“You’ll get used to it, he’s often not wearing all of his clothes,” Steve mutters, rolling his eyes.  Leah laughs and sits up, crossing her legs under her.

 

Steve goes to change, as well, and soon, they’re both in yoga shorts, which Leah laughs at Tony for.  “Why are yours so short?” she asks.

 

“Because I’m more advanced, and I like to have more leg flexibility, _shut up_ ,” he says, pointing a finger at her.  Leah just keeps laughing as Tony tugs off his shirt and reaches for something tighter, and then Leah stops laughing, looking him over.  “That’s right, enjoy the show, your brother usually does,” Tony says, and Steve casually turns away as he’s changing his shirt, which only makes Leah start laughing again.

 

Tony’s hunting around for his mat when Emma comes hollering down the hallway, “It’s been a half hour, it’s yoga time!”  She comes barreling into the room, puts her hands on her hips, and says, “Everyone is waiting downstairs, you can’t say no now.”

 

“We’re coming, pipsqueak, hold on,” Tony says, and Emma gasps.

 

“I am _not_ a pipsqueak!”

 

“Totally are,” Tony says, shrugging, “Sorry.”

 

“You’re short, too.”

 

“Rude,” Tony says, pretending to be offended, but then Emma makes a ridiculous face, and he erupts into surprised laughter.  “Oh, you’re something else, kid,” he says, and she just grins and leads the way out of the room.

 

They go downstairs into the living room, where everyone is gathered, and Steve rolls his eyes at his family, all ready to be given a show.  “We’ve got to do core first,” Steve says, and Sara shrugs.

 

“I’m sure it’ll all be very entertaining,” she says, and Steve makes a face at her.

 

And so, they spend the first hour working through their core, Tony introducing a few new poses, though one in particular makes Steve look over at him in disbelief.  “No way,” he says, and Tony nods.

 

“Yes way.”

 

“You can’t do that.”

 

“I’ve been working on it, so yes, I can.  Come on, stop slacking,” Tony says, reaching out and pushing Steve over.  “Down dog, let’s go, stop being a—bad word,” he amends, and Steve laughs, though he does as he’s told.  “Alright, ready?”

 

“No,” he mutters.

 

“Good.  Right foot forward in a lunge.  We’re doing both legs, so stop whining,” he says when Steve sighs.  “Okay, right foot should be a little bit ahead of your knee, and then lower down as far as you can.”

 

“Shut up,” Steve says when Tony goes down, his left knee resting on the ground

 

“I told you, I’ve been working on it.  Now, if you can, we’re doing a shoulder opening twist.”

 

“Great.”

 

“Flip your arms, and hold your wrists at your lower back.  Don’t cheat, asslamp, shoulder underneath your knee.  Good, good,” he says, watching Steve move even as he gets into the pose himself.  “Look at that, shoulders, you’re pretty close.”

 

“This sucks.”

 

“I know.  Other leg, come out slowly.”

 

When they finish up with core, they do a few breathing exercises, and then they’re both getting into crow, facing each other.  When Tony nods, they roll forward, coming into tripod.  “Ready?” Tony asks, looking over at Steve, who takes a few steadying breaths before he nods.  “You’ve got this, man, no worries,” Tony says, and Steve can’t stop the smile that lifts his mouth.

 

They move in sync, legs slowly straightening, and Emma starts complaining, “That’s a headstand, not a handstand!”

 

“Hold on, pipsqueak,” Tony says, and she glares at him.  “Hold it,” he says to Steve, his voice lower, smoother, “Find your calm.  Grow roots.  When you’re ready, lift.”  Together, they push off the ground, and Steve lets out a soft laugh when they rise into handstands.  “Alright, remember, shoulders, I’m counting on you.”

 

“I got this,” he says, holding Tony’s gaze, “We got this.”

 

“Okay, drop out when you’re ready.”

 

Steve holds the stand for a few more moments before moving into a shelf, and then, as slowly as he can, coming out into a backbend.  Tony waits until he’s in the backbend before he inhales, and then, as he’s exhaling, slowly rocks down until he’s on his forearms.  “Jesus,” Joe says, shaking his head in disbelief, “You guys are crazy.”

 

“Just wait,” Steve says, tipping his head backward and pulling his hands in a little until he can see Tony.  “Remember your shoulder,” Steve says, and Tony nods, hanging out in a forearm stand for a few breaths before he starts to roll his torso forward, head lifting as he comes into scorpion, legs dropping back behind him.  “Oh, dude, that’s beautiful,” Steve says, and he has to remind himself to stay in backbend and not come out to see the pose better.  Tony’s feet are close to his head, closer than they’ve been all semester, and his grin is wide and genuine when he holds it.

 

“I’m gonna roll out, you ready?” Tony asks.

 

“I got you,” Steve says softly, and then Tony starts to move, legs coming down as his torso rolls backward, and there’s a moment where everyone holds their breath before Tony’s feet land on Steve’s knees.  “Shoulder,” Steve reminds, and Tony takes a moment to find his calm again before he lifts onto his hands, turning them in so his shoulders rotate.  As he does, Steve comes down out of his bend, and then, the pose they haven’t managed to hold yet, Tony curls his toes a little, feet tightening against Steve’s thighs as he shifts them up, and Steve reaches down to hold his ankles before Tony rocks once, and then again, coming out and going over.  His hands land on Steve’s shoulders, and he pauses, staring down at him.  Steve’s breath catches, and he finds that he wants to get lost in this moment, wants to just hold Tony’s gaze until they’re not looking anymore, but being.

 

“Ready?” Tony whispers, and it brings Steve back.  He nods, moving his hands up to circle Tony’s wrists, and Tony lifts one hand and then the other, fingers tightening around Steve’s wrists and forearms, fingers spread.  “Do not drop me,” he says, and Steve smiles, nodding.

 

“I got you, Tony,” he promises, and then Tony’s rolling up onto his toes, back straightening, and Steve rubs a circle on his wrist with his thumb a second before Tony kicks one leg up, the other following until they’re bent, tucked above him, his weight supported only by Steve’s strength now.  “Take your time,” he whispers, and Tony closes his eyes, sinking in, letting it all drop away until he knows, he knows with everything in him that they’ll get it right this time.

 

This is the part he loves most.  When he first thought of the move, he asked Betty and Bruce to try it, and, after a few attempts, they’d got it down, and it had looked so fluid, so beautiful that he’d immediately run back to try it with Steve.

 

Steve keeps his gaze trained on Tony’s feet, waiting, and the second his legs start to unfurl, he starts to lift until Tony’s legs and Steve’s arms are straight.  There’s a collective gasp that ripples through the room as Tony opens his eyes again and stares down at Steve, and there’s something in his gaze that both terrifies and exhilarates Steve.

 

“Steve,” he says, and his eyes are so bright, Steve feels blinded by him.

 

“Tony,” he says in response, beaming.

 

“Wanna go for part two?” he asks, and Steve nods.

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, definitely.”

 

“Ready when you are, then, wrists,” he says, his thumbs running up the underside of Steve’s wrists, and it makes a shiver run down his spine.

 

Steve lifts his legs until they’re straight, and then he blinks at Tony, who brings his legs forward, straight ahead of him, and then starts to lean backward, Steve guiding him until his feet are pressed into the dip of his lower back, and Tony’s legs come around, feet hooking around Steve’s shins.  Steve lets go of his hands, fingers trailing down until they’re curling around Tony’s shoulders as Tony reaches for his ankles, pulling his body into a tight curve.

 

Steve squeezes Tony’s shoulders, and he looks down at him, eyebrows lifting, so Steve smiles, and they move onto their third pose, Tony’s legs coming back around, sliding into full lotus.  He lowers his legs around until they’re nearly pressing against his abdomen, and then Steve lifts him away, legs coming back down as he holds onto his shoulders and Tony lifts his legs, hands together at heart center, legs above him in full lotus.  They’ve never gotten this far, and Steve isn’t sure how well their landing will be, but he lets Tony hold the pose for half a minute before he brings his feet back up, shifting Tony until his thighs are resting on the tops of Steve’s feet, and then he lowers him down as slowly as he can, hands skimming down his spine and balancing him until Tony’s on the ground again between Steve’s bent knees, and he’s still for a moment before he slaps Steve’s leg and looks back at him, in awe.

 

The room erupts in applause, and it distracts Tony into putting on his showman persona, and he bows while still in full lotus.

 

“That was pretty intense,” Sara says as Steve sits, “How long did that take to get through?”

 

“We’ve been working on it for about a month, I think,” Tony says, glancing at Steve, “It takes a lot of trust and strength, though.  You should see our friends do it, they’re amazing.”

 

They stay up a while longer, just hanging out with Steve’s family, until Sara’s announcing it’s Emma’s bedtime, and Steve decides they should head upstairs, as well.  They take turns showering, and Steve calls dibs, so he goes first while Tony flops onto his bed and rummages through his things until he finds a book that strikes his fancy.  He’s about a quarter way in when the door opens, and he looks over to see Riley standing there.

 

“Is Steve—oh,” she breaks off when she hears the shower, “I’ll come back later.”

 

“What’s up?” Tony asks, turning onto his side.  Riley looks at him with wide eyes, and Tony smiles, shifting until he’s sitting.  “I won’t bite, I promise.”  Riley lingers a moment longer before coming in, carefully sitting on Steve’s bed, putting some distance between her and Tony.  “So, do all three of you just come in here all the time?”

 

“We always have,” Riley says, shrugging, “Ever since I was little, I’ve been going to him when I need help with something.”

 

“You’re lucky,” Tony says, smiling, “He’s a pretty great guy.”

 

Riley just nods, looking away from Tony.  She sits there in silence, so Tony sits with her, picking up his book again until Riley sighs and scoots closer to him.  “I wasn’t actually looking for Steve,” she whispers.

  
“Okay,” Tony says, putting the book down again, “I won’t tell him, whatever it is, if you want.”

 

“I don’t know if I can trust you yet,” she says, and Tony nods.

 

“Fair enough.  How about this?  I’ll tell you a secret, and you tell me a secret.”  Riley looks up at him shyly, holding his gaze before she nods and then looks back down at her lap.  Tony hums, trying to think of just what exactly he can trust a thirteen-year-old with.  Finally, he leans over, bumping shoulders with Riley, before he says, “I have a crush on your brother.”

 

Riley’s head whips up to stare at him, eyes and mouth wide.  “ _Really_?” she gasps, and he nods.  He thinks he hit the nail on the head because then Riley swallows, takes a deep breath, and says, “I think I like my best friend.”

 

“Is your best friend a girl?” Tony asks, and Riley nods quickly.  Tony smiles, scooting over until their legs are pressed together, and he loops an arm around her, giving her a one-armed hug before he says, “When I first told my mom I’d kissed a boy, I was twelve, and she said, _and?_   Just like that.  She didn’t care.  I was so confused that she said, _well, was it your first kiss?_   It wasn’t.  I’d kissed a girl the year before, and I told her that, and she said, _well, now you’ve had two first kisses, and that’s pretty cool.  Not a lot of people are lucky enough to have that._   She doesn’t care who I date as long as I’m happy in the end, and that’s what you need to remember.  I like your brother, and he makes me happy, so—in the end, that’s all that matters.”

 

“You think?”

 

“I know, actually.  I’m a professional in these matters.”

 

Riley laughs when he tries to make a serious face, and Tony smiles, bumping shoulders with her again.  “Better?”

 

Riley nods.  “Thanks, Tony.”  She gets up, heading for the door, though she pauses and turns, saying, “You know, maybe Steve just needs to have two first kisses,” and Tony just stares at her.  He never thought he’d get such incredible advice from a thirteen-year-old, and he’s still a little stunned when Riley leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is coming a day late! Believe it or not, I actually forgot yesterday. Two days ago, I had to convince myself to wait another day—I always want to post early, but I need to keep to my schedule so I don’t catch up to where I’m still writing too fast—and then I completely spaced it yesterday until I was already in bed and remembered. But, here we are now. Also, if you haven’t read it already, and if you’re interested in a post-CA:TWS Steve/Bucky story, I have a new fic posted: _[i’d tell you how it haunts me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1460920)_.
> 
> Look at these two losers that can’t realize they’re in love, my _goodness_. I’m really enjoying this secondhand frustration. Like, I was pulling my hair out at this point—it gets worse, and I got so terribly angry while I was writing—and it’s not even that bad yet. Oh, I hope you guys are enjoying because I’m just being an asshole over here and laughing. I’m sorry, that’s horrible. Also, you have now met some of my _favorite_ minor characters! Steve’s sisters are so much fun, and I love how much they adore Tony. Originally, I was going to leave them as single children, like they are, but I thought it would be so fun to give Steve siblings, and even more fun to draw from Chris’ life and give him sisters, so that happened. They’re fantastic, though, and I really hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do. I also hope you enjoy this very long chapter, and guess what, the next one is just as long, awesome sauce! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! For the last half of this—well, last third, really, but okay, you guys will know what scene it is, but, just in case, it begins after they play _Left 4 Dead_. I’ll have more to say about this song after, but, for now, here’s [Dreams by Bastille and Gabrielle Aplin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2Zu7qJqDXQ), which is a Fleetwood Mac cover, and if you pay attention, is where the title of this fic comes from.

Later that night, after they’ve showered, they settle in to watch a movie, and Tony ends up drifting off before it’s over, so Steve shuts the TV off, hits the lights, and then nudges Tony until he stirs, whining when Steve makes him move over.  He settles on the side by the wall, putting his back to Steve, who does the same, facing away from the wall.

 

The bed is big enough that Steve thinks maybe they won’t be pulled together—they’re like fucking magnets in the twin, and though they’ve only spent the night together once, even during their naps, they end up closer than Steve meant for them to be—but, when he wakes in the morning, they’re closer than they’ve ever been.

 

Steve wakes up first, lashes brushing against the back of Tony’s neck as he blinks opens his eyes, and the first thing he notices is that his nose is resting against the nape of Tony’s neck, his temple pressed against the short hairs at the back of his head.  Tony is snug against him, fitting along the curve of Steve’s body like he was always meant to be there.  Their legs are slotted together, one of Steve’s knees slid between Tony’s thighs, and Tony’s back is lined up with Steve’s chest, his heart thumping slowly through him.  Steve’s eyes widen as he leans his head back, staring at the slumped line of Tony’s shoulders, the easy way they rise and fall as he breathes.  He can feel his breath, ghosting over his hand, because Steve’s arm is wrapped around him, his fingers tucked around the collar of Tony’s shirt, and he realizes he’s holding onto him, keeping him close.  Tony’s in this little ball, head turned down and knees risen up a little to his chest, and Steve just stares at him, this impossibly beautiful and broken boy.

 

He rises up onto his elbow, looking over at Tony, and he doesn’t mean to tighten his hold around Tony, but he presses a little closer, and he just wants to stay here forever, to hold onto him and never let him go.

 

His lips are parted a little, so soft looking that Steve drops his head against Tony’s shoulder, just looks up at him and ignores every flight instinct in his body.  His hair is sticking up in a half dozen odd directions, but some of it is brushing his forehead, and he looks so little like this, so vulnerable.  “Tony,” he whispers without meaning to.

 

Tony stirs a little, shifting, and that’s when Steve realizes he’s half hard, Tony’s ass in his lap, and he lifts his head, panic flooding through him.  “It’s all good, butt cheeks,” Tony mumbles, his words slurring together, “You’re not the first one to wake up wanting to fuck me.”

 

“I don’t—” Steve breaks off, pressing his forehead against Tony’s shoulder.  “I don’t want to _fuck you_ ,” Steve grinds out.

 

“I think that’s still up for debate,” Tony murmurs, and this time he rolls his hips back purposefully.

 

“Stop,” Steve whispers, and Tony stills instantly.  Steve lifts his head and looks down at him curiously, but his eyes are still closed, his breathing still even.  “You actually stopped,” he says, surprised.

 

Tony lets out this little, breathy laugh, his stomach caving in for a second.  “No one ever listens to me when I say stop, so I try to be the better man,” he says, and Steve closes his eyes.

 

“Tony.”

 

“Don’t feel sorry for me.  Please.  We’ve already been through this.  Just—just hold me for a little longer.  I don’t usually get to have this, and it’s nice.”

 

“Okay,” Steve whispers after a moment, dropping back down and shifting close to him again.  He lets his exhale burst out over Tony’s skin before he drags his nose up along the ridge of his neck, and then he places a soft, barely there kiss at the nape of his neck.  Tony shivers, his mouth turning up in a small smile, and Steve hides his own smile against Tony’s shoulder as he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him again.

 

——

 

Later, they’re all in the living room spread out on the sofas and chairs, and Steve can’t help it, he just wants to be _near_ Tony, and so they’re sitting close, Tony’s legs crossed under him, knee resting on Steve’s thigh, Steve’s arm dropped around the back of the sofa behind Tony.  Emma’s putting on some kind of show for them, Riley, and Leah, though she pauses it and yells at Tony when she catches him texting.

 

“Tony Stark!” she shrieks, and he jumps, looking up.

 

“It’s my girlfriend!” he tries to defend himself, and Emma glares at him.

 

“You don’t have a girlfriend,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Betty?” Steve asks, and Tony nods.

 

“Well, she’s my bestest friend at school, so close enough.”

 

“Tell her I say hi, then, but you have to pay attention after.”

 

“Promise,” Tony says, looking back down.  He sends a quick text, _I just got yelled at by Steve’s little sister for not paying attention.  She says hello.  Also, I think I’ve been given a green light, so I’m making a move tonight when his family is out for Black Friday shopping._ “Okay, done,” he says, putting away his phone.

 

Emma nods before continuing her show.  She’s just finishing when there’s a knock on the door, and Sara yells for someone to answer it.  Emma runs off, and then, “Nana!”  Steve looks up in surprise.  “Daddy, nana’s here!” Emma yells.

 

“Mom, hey!” Joe calls from the kitchen, “I’m so glad you could make it!”

 

Nana Rogers appears a few minutes later, and Riley, Leah, and Steve all jump up to say hello to her.  When they’ve finished their hugs and kisses, Steve turns, saying, “Nana, this is Tony, my roommate from college.”

 

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rogers,” he says, standing.

 

She gives him a strange look even as she shakes his hand.  “You, as well, Tony.  I’m going to go visit with my favorite son,” she says to the rest of them, tapping Emma on the nose before she heads back out.

 

They all drop back down, and Steve maybe sits a little closer.  “I’m onto you, shoulders,” Tony says, knee settling on his thigh again, and Steve’s about to ask what he means when Tony scoots closer, side pressed against Steve’s, shoulder tucked up under his arm.  He pulls out his phone, tilting it away as he reads the text from Betty, _Tony, don’t ruin things between you and Steve if there wasn’t a green light.  I swear to god, I will set things on fire if we can’t hang out with him anymore._

_I’ll be good, I promise,_ he sends back.

 

“You’re warm,” he says aloud after he’s put his phone away.  Steve looks down at him, and Tony shrugs.  “I’m always cold, so that’s pretty awesome.”  He reaches up, tugging on Steve’s thumb until his arm hooks around Tony’s shoulders, and Steve swallows thickly, looking over to his sisters.  “Relax, they’re preoccupied,” Tony whispers as Leah turns on the TV.  They start watching the Charlie Brown special, and Tony leans his head against Steve’s shoulder, settling in.  They sit like that until Steve’s starting to feel more comfortable than he ever has with anyone, and he thinks he might be starting to give in.

 

Nana returns, and she clicks her tongue, shaking her head as she crosses through the room and sits next to Steve.  “Don’t be inappropriate, Stephen,” she says, and Steve jumps, lifting his arm up.  Tony frowns when he shifts away from him, his side going cold, and he slumps a little.

 

“Steve!” Sara calls from the kitchen.

  
“I’ll be back,” he mumbles before getting to his feet, and Tony sighs, digging in his pocket again when Nana clears her throat.

 

He looks up and over, eyebrows raised, and she says, “Is Tony short for something?”

 

“Anthony,” he says, “Though I prefer Tony.”

 

“I can never understand why people shorten their names,” Nana says, shaking her head, “Italian, are you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Makes sense, I guess.”

 

Tony’s brow furrows as she looks away from him.  “ _Excuse me_?” he says, and Leah looks over at his tone.  Nana looks back, her expression cool.  “What does my heritage have to do with anything?”

 

“I’ve heard a thing or two,” she says.

 

“Like _what_?”

 

“Nana,” Leah says.

 

“It’s not uncommon for rebellion, especially in Italians.  You’re Steve’s roommate?”  Tony nods, his frown deepening.  “The one whose father beats him?”  Tony’s face goes blank, his jaw clenching as he swallows down his anger.  “Too bad he didn’t beat the fruit right out of you.”

 

“ _Nana_ ,” Leah hisses, but she’s looking at Tony when she says it.

 

“Excuse me,” he whispers, standing and calmly walking from the living room.  He tries to take the stairs as slowly as possible, but he ends up jogging up the last few, running down the hall, and slamming into Steve’s room.  He paces across the room, fists clenched tightly by his sides, and, when he turns, he lets out a hissing breath and reaches up, fingers coming up to lock behind his head.  He hears the stairs creak, and he turns away again, stopping in the middle of the room as he closes his eyes, trying to stop the oncoming flood.  “Don’t do it,” he mumbles to himself, “Don’t do it, don’t let her win, she’s just another mouth who doesn’t know, don’t let her get to you, you’re better than this.”

 

Footsteps come down the hall, and he recognizes them, he fucking _recognizes_ them, and he doesn’t know how Steve got this far under his skin, but it breaks him a little, his shoulders shaking as a few tears slip past his defense, sliding down his cheeks unbidden.

 

The door opens, and his whole face scrunches up in the effort not to cry, but then Steve’s saying his name, so soft, so careful, like he’s afraid to spook him, “Tony?”

 

He turns immediately, and Steve lets out this bursting exhale and steps forward, pulling Tony against him.  “Hey,” he whispers, running his hands over Tony’s back, “What happened?”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tony mumbles against his chest, “I didn’t—I just—I shouldn’t have let that bother me, I should have expected it, I’m _sorry_ ,” his voice cracks on the last word, and he falls apart, crying quietly into Steve’s chest.

 

“Tony,” he murmurs, dropping his head down to lean against his, “What did she say?”

 

Tony tries to speak and fails, this awful noise escaping him, and Steve sighs, settling for rubbing his back and letting him sort himself out.  He’s never seen Tony cry other than that night, but he’d expected it then, had expected the broken noises that he made, but this is different, this is quiet, this is something he’s not sure he’s supposed to see, this is a Tony he thinks maybe only his mother sees.

 

When he finally starts to calm down, he pushes against Steve, and Steve lets him go, arms dropping to his sides as Tony takes a steadying breath and reaches up to wipe at his face.  “Here,” Steve says, going to get him some tissues.  When he offers him the box, Tony’s hand has drifted to his chest and is pushing a little.  “Are you okay?” he asks as Tony takes a tissue with his other hand.

 

“My chest hurts,” he admits, his breaths coming a little hard, “I don’t know why, it’s weird.”

 

“Did you take your meds this morning?” Steve asks as Tony closes his eyes.

 

“Um,” Tony says, trying to remember, “I—fuck, no, I didn’t.”

 

“Sit down,” Steve says, steering him toward the bed.  He goes over to his desk once he’s sitting, and starts looking through his art bag when Tony whines.

 

“Fuck, it really hurts.  Oh god, this—shit, this is—” he breaks off, and Steve looks over worriedly, frowning when he sees Tony’s white knuckles, gripping the bed.

 

Steve turns back, rifling through his bag until he finds the diuretics, and he quickly brings them over, knocking out two and handing them over.  Tony takes them, swallows them dry, and then says, “Can you grab me one of the sedatives, too?  Shit—maybe my inhaler.”

 

“You have sedatives?” Steve asks, going back to his desk.

 

“Kind of, they’re—I dunno, really, one of my doctors described it to me when I was prescribed, but I can never remember.  I just know it helps when it’s like this.”

 

Steve brings over something that looks right, as well as his inhaler, and Tony takes one of the sedatives, then shakes the inhaler, and brings it up to his mouth.  When he exhales again, it’s steadier, and Steve sits next to him.  “Are you okay?” he asks, reaching over to rub circles in his back.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony mumbles, leaning against Steve, “It gets like that when there’s a lot of shit going on in my head, and I’m not really—like, if I’m nervous or whatever, it’s worse so it starts to hurt a lot quicker than usual.”

 

“Was it something my grandmother said?”

 

“She just—she’s just old school, Steve.  She doesn’t like me because I’m—gay, if you want to put a hat on it.”

 

“Label.”

 

“Whatever,” he says, looking up as a set of feet come down the hall.

 

Joe appears in the doorway, frowning.  “Everything okay, boys?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, looking over as Tony straightens.  “Better?” he asks.

 

“It’s getting there,” he says, reaching up to rub at his chest.

 

“Sara told me about that,” Joe says, nodding toward Tony, “Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, nodding, giving Joe a small smile, “Just forgot to take my meds this morning.  Thanks.”

 

“Sure thing.  Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.  I’ll talk to my mother,” he says before he heads out.

 

They sit there for a bit longer until Tony sighs and stands, going over to the bathroom.  He cleans his face up, applies his inhaler again, and then he feels like he’s okay enough to go back downstairs.  Steve’s waiting for him when he comes back out, and he smiles, shrugging one shoulder.  “Let’s go get ‘em, tiger,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Steve rolls his eyes, leading the way out of the room.

 

Downstairs, Emma’s setting the table by herself, so Tony goes to help her while Steve wanders off to see where nana is, and he’s in the hallway by the kitchen when he hears, “I can’t _believe_ you said that to him.  He is our guest, mom, and you can’t just—you make me ashamed.”

 

“Ashamed?” nana spits back, “That _boy_ —”

 

“That boy has been through more than you ever did,” Sara jumps in, “That you would bring up his abuse _to his face_ , and then make a derogatory comment about his orientation is unacceptable.”

 

“I will not apologize for my words,” nana says coldly, “I meant them.”

 

“I’m not asking you to apologize, I know better than to ask for simple decency from you, but if you speak poorly to him again, you will leave, and I don’t care if it’s in the middle of dinner,” Joe says, and Steve straightens, surprised.

 

“You would kick your own mother out over some _faggot_ corrupting your only son?”

 

“Joe,” Sara says, and then Steve is trying to hurry away, but Sara’s already in the hallway.  “Steve,” she sighs, pulling him farther down the hall.  “Is he okay?” she asks once they’re out of earshot.

 

“Yeah, he’s—he’s fine,” Steve says, “What did she say to him?”

 

“It doesn’t matter now,” Sara says, looking back toward the kitchen, “She’s an unhappy, old woman, and we should have expected something like this from her.  If he needs anything,” Sara trails off.

 

“It’s okay, mom,” Steve sighs, “I’m gonna go help him and Emma set the table.”

 

He leaves her, going back to the dining room, where Emma is showing Tony how to fold the napkins correctly.  He smiles, leaning against the doorway as he watches them.  She’s already got Tony wrapped around her little finger, and he seems more than happy to be there, laughing as she groans when he does it wrong again, _on purpose_.  He goes to help them, his hand sliding across Tony’s lower back, who grins at him.

 

When they finally sit for dinner, Emma places out name cards, putting Tony in between her and Riley, Steve across the table, and she surprises everyone by putting nana as far from him as possible.  Dinner starts off with eight pairs of hands flailing around, passing things, different voices asking, and Tony can’t help but smile through the whole thing until it’s just the clink of forks against plates, and he looks over at Steve to find him looking at Emma, who’s shoveling food in her mouth as fast as she can.  “It’s not gonna go anywhere, Emmie,” Steve says, and she gives him an incredulous look.

 

“It _might_ ,” Tony says, nudging Emma before he digs in, but then she’s laughing at him, and Steve starts laughing, as well, until the girls are joining in.

 

When they settle, Steve glances at Tony and then says, “So, mom, dad, where are you guys planning on going tonight?”

 

“You’re going out?” nana says, frowning, “ _Tonight_?  For what reason?  It’s Thanksgiving!”

 

“It’s also Black Friday, mom,” Joe says, not looking at her, “The girls have a million and one stores they want to go to, I’m sure, and your mom and I are going to get some Christmas shopping done, as well.  You sure you guys don’t wanna come out with us?”

 

“We’re gonna go to Toys R Us!” Emma cheers, throwing her fists in the air.

 

“Sweet deal,” Tony says, holding up a hand, and she swings wildly, high fiving him.

 

“Yeah, we’re good here,” Steve says, smiling fondly at Tony, “Probably just gonna play video games and do yoga.”

 

“Don’t hurt yourselves while we’re out,” Sara says, “I know you want to get that routine down, but go slow.”

 

“Yes, Sara,” Tony says, a little petulantly, and she just points her fork at him, so he flashes her a wide grin.

 

“So, how long is your break?” Joe asks, looking over at Steve.

 

“A week.  We’re supposed to be back on Tuesday.”

 

“We should put up the tree while you’re here,” Sara says, but Joe and Steve both shake their heads.

 

“It’s too early,” Steve says, “Just put it up without me, I’ll be home pretty late into December.”

 

“We can’t put the tree up without you, Steve!” Emma whines, pouting.

 

“You look like a duck,” Tony says, looking down at Emma, so she starts quacking, and Tony snorts.  “You’re a doofus.”

 

“ _You’re_ a—is doofus a bad word?” she whispers, leaning in conspiratorially.

 

“Ask your brother,” Tony says, looking over at Steve.

 

“ _Steeeeeeve_!” Emma hisses, and Tony covers his mouth, trying not to laugh.

 

“Yes, Emma Jean?”

 

“Is doofus a bad word?” she whispers.

 

“You said doofus!” Tony exclaims, pointing at her, and Emma shrieks, slapping her hands over her face.

 

Sara starts laughing, shaking her head.  “Tony, stop,” she says, smiling, “She’s already bouncing around acting like you.”

 

“Oh god,” Tony says, faking horror, “Emma!”

 

“What?” she whines from behind her hands.

 

Tony pokes at her until she looks at him.  “I don’t know how to break it to you, kid, but I think you might be infected with Starkitus.”

 

“Ew, cooties!” she giggles, flailing when Tony tries to tickle her.

 

“Tony!” Sara exclaims, but she’s laughing, and Tony just grins and straightens again, returning to his plate.  Under the table, he slides his foot as far as it’ll go, smiling at his potatoes when Steve makes an aborted noise and tries to cover it up by clearing his throat.  He reaches a little farther, sliding his foot up along Steve’s ankle, and then he just rests it there, their feet pressed together, warm and solid, and it brings a blush to Steve’s face that Tony nearly chokes on his water at when he looks up.

 

Dinner continues on this way, Tony stealing glances, Steve pretending he’s not, and, when Sara and Joe get up to clear the table, Steve and Tony help.  Tony rumples Emma’s hair, and she whines at him even though she’s yawning.  Sara shoos them back to the table when the dishes are in the kitchen, and then she’s getting the pies ready.  Leah leaves to go check her phone, Emma yells at Steve to let her sit in his lap, so Steve comes over and picks her up, dropping down in her seat and setting her down.

 

Desert is a mostly quiet affair, conversations breaking off in sections.  “So, video games?” Tony asks as he cuts off a piece of his apple pie.

 

Steve shrugs, “Or something else.  I dunno.  Why, are video games below your intelligence level?”

 

“No, I just didn’t take you for a gamer.”

 

“Sometimes.  Hey, uh—meds?”

 

“No, I’ll just be off schedule for a day.  Doesn’t work like that, shoulders.  I—” he breaks off, leaning over and pulling out his phone.  “It’s my mom,” he says, “I’ll be right back.  Excuse me,” he says to the table, though no one’s really paying attention.  He goes out into the hall, sliding his thumb across and lifting the phone to his ear.  “Hey,” he says, smiling, “How’s Aunt Rosalie’s?”

 

“Loud,” Maria laughs, “Her little ones are so excitable.”

 

“Yeah, Steve has an eight-year-old sister like that.  She’s always running around, shrieking.”

 

“How is it there?  Were they okay with you staying over?”

 

“Yeah, I guess Sara had been bugging Steve to ask, so it’s totally cool.  His sisters are awesome.”

 

“That’s good.  I’m glad you could go there, sweetie.  I’m sorry I couldn’t stay home.  We’ll be together for Christmas, though.  How’s everything else?”

 

“Uh, good,” Tony says, nodding, “Yeah, um—had a bit of an issue earlier with my heart, but it’s better now, just a little sore.  Steve’s great, as always.  Talked to Betty earlier, too, so that was nice.  I should probably get back, though.  We’re in the middle of desert.”

 

“Alright.  Be good, okay?  Remember your manners—please and thank you.”

 

“Yes, mom,” he says, shaking his head, “I’m not a child anymore.”

 

“I know,” Maria says, and she sounds a little sad, “I know.”

 

She’s quiet for a moment, so Tony says, “Mom?”

 

“I know, sweetie.  Go back to dinner.  I love you as ever, darling.  Have a good night, and call me soon, okay?”

 

“Of course.  I love you, too, mom.”  He hangs up, staring at her picture on his phone for a moment before sighing and going back into the dining room.

 

Desert doesn’t last much longer, and then they’re migrating to the living room, where Tony expects Steve to sit as though there’s a ten foot pole between them, but he drops down next to Tony so that their thighs are touching, and Tony grins, leaning their shoulders together.

 

Nana Rogers leaves around six, hugging and kissing everyone goodbye, and Tony remains on the sofa, but she barely glances at him before she’s leaving, so it doesn’t matter.  They spend an hour hanging out downstairs until Tony’s starting to feel restless, so they go upstairs, and Tony flops on the bed while Steve goes over to his video games.  “I got the new _Left 4 Dead_ game last time we were home.”

 

“Dude, _yes_ , we are playing that, you don’t have a choice now.”

 

They get comfortable, changing into sweats and t-shirts before Steve drops down on the floor so his back is resting against the bed.  He hands Tony up a controller, and they sit through the opening credits, Tony reading them aloud in a ridiculous accent until Steve’s got tears running down his face as he laughs.  “You’re such an asshole,” he whines when the game actually starts.

 

“Dude, _lights_ ,” Tony says, getting up and scurrying across the room to hit the lights.  He comes to sit next Steve, and they start playing.  It becomes quickly obvious that Tony prefers the more open spaces, where they can see everything around them, and as soon as they get into a building, he starts whining and inching closer to Steve until they hear the witch wailing, and he starts chanting, “Fuck no, I fucking hate her, not fucking today,” and climbs into Steve’s lap.

 

“Tony,” Steve whines, trying to shove him out of the way, but Tony squirms until he’s comfortable, forcing Steve’s legs to unbend.  He leans back against his chest, so Steve rests the controller on his head, laughing when Tony jumps when it vibrates.  When they find the witch, Tony presses back against Steve, pulling his knees up.  “You’re such a wimp,” Steve teases, but then the witch is turning, and Tony kicks out, his left leg jumping before it hits the floor as they start fighting.

 

They spend the rest of the night like this, gaming until Sara comes knocking, and Steve calls for her to come in even as Tony cackles and starts shooting everything in sight.  “Dude, you just shot me!” Steve yells at him before he pauses the game.

 

Sara flicks on the lights, they hiss and cover their eyes, she laughs, and then she shakes her head, leaning again the doorway, “We’re going out.  Last chance.”

 

“What time is it?” Steve asks, looking around for his clock.

 

“Ten thirty.  Listen, I can trust you not to throw a wild party while we’re out, yeah?”

 

“Mom,” Steve says, rolling his eyes.

 

“I’m just making sure.  If you do, though, we’ll be home around two, probably, so make sure everyone’s out by then.”

 

“Yes, mom,” Steve says.

 

“Don’t yes, mom me, Stephen,” she says, though she’s smiling, “Be good, boys.  Tony.”

 

“Don’t Tony me,” he says, making a face at her, and Sara laughs loudly as she hits the lights and turns back out.

 

They keep playing for a little while longer until Tony groans, tosses his controller at the floor, and gets up, heading for the bathroom.  “I’m bored,” he says before he closes the door, and so Steve saves the game and gets up to put it away.  He leaves the lights off but turns on one of his standing lamps so the room is cast in a warm, golden glow.  He grabs his sketchpad before he drops onto his bed, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he tries to decide what to work on.

 

Tony makes an angry noise suddenly, and Steve looks over curiously as he bangs out of the bathroom, clambering onto the bed.  “You know what,” he says, jabbing Steve in the arm, “Fuck Luke, I’m done with him.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, looking over at Tony.

 

“Yes,” Tony says, “I’m sick of his shit.  He texts me, right, tries to say he’s sorry for what happened, like, _fuck you_ , I didn’t beat the shit out of him for nothing.”

 

“Wait,” Steve says, frowning, “What happened?”

 

“He was being an asshole, more than usual, so I smacked him around.  He was talking shit about my friends,” Tony says, his voice dropping as he shrugs one shoulder, “You guys are more important than some douchebag who only wants sex.”

 

“I thought you only wanted sex,” Steve says, and he doesn’t know why, but his heart is thudding in his chest, and maybe it’s because of the wicked glint in Tony’s eyes or the dangerous curve of his mouth—all Steve knows is he wants him, _right now_ , and it terrifies him.

 

“Only sometimes,” Tony says, his voice pitching lower before he’s rolling up onto his knees, plucking Steve’s sketchpad from his hands, and leaning to put it on the nightstand before he swings a knee over so he’s straddling Steve’s waist.

 

“Tony,” Steve says brokenly, looking up at him.

 

“Yeah?”  Tony rolls his hips, smirking when he finds Steve hard.  He can feel everything through his sweats, the thick curve of his cock pressing against his thigh, and Tony wants so badly to be naked, wants to strip them both until their skin is sliding together, hot and slick and beautiful.

 

“Tony,” Steve gasps, head tipping back a little as he rocks against him, moving slow to give them both time, to prolong this even though Tony wants to rush, wants to feel Steve come undone beneath him.

 

He leans down, nose nudging at Steve’s jaw before he’s pressing hot, wet kisses down his throat, nails scraping against his chest as he pulls the collar of his shirt back so he can bite and suck a wicked bruise over his collarbone.  He grinds his hips down, groaning when their cocks rub together, separated by so much, and Tony has half a mind to roll off and yank his sweats down, but he doesn’t want to chance this ending, so he just stays put.

 

He rubs them together, his hips moving faster as he releases Steve’s chest to kiss across it, and then Steve’s hand is coming up to grip at his arm, and Tony shrugs it away, instead lacing their fingers together and pressing Steve’s hand back down against the bed.  His other hand comes up to curl around Tony’s hip as his own roll up, meeting Tony thrust for thrust.

 

“God, Steve,” Tony whines, forehead thudding against his sternum as he rocks down harder, trying to find more friction.  He wants to get off so bad, wants to shatter them both apart.

 

Steve’s hips jerk up toward his, and Tony groans, his head bumping Steve’s chin.  He lifts his head, looking down at him, Steve’s mouth open, panting.  Tony bites his own lip—god, he wants him, in every possible way, he wants to do the worst things imaginable to him, he wants to _kiss him_.

 

He doesn’t know if they’re there yet, though, if Steve’s ready for that, and so he leans up, biting his jaw and soothing it with a kiss before he pressing his left hand against Steve’s chest and pushing up, changing the angle so Steve groans, their cocks rubbing together through layers of clothing even as Tony feels a shiver run down his spine.

 

Steve holds his gaze, staring up at him, as Tony fingers bunch in his shirt, nails scraping against his chest as he moves quicker, harder, trying to chase the heat inside of him.  Steve squeezes his hand, and Tony swipes his thumb across the back of it in slow, calming circles.  Steve’s head jerks over, looking at their hands, and then back up at Tony, who shrugs one shoulder, smiling softly.

 

“Tony,” he whispers, and then Tony presses them together again, hips rocking against Steve as fast as he can, thighs tightening as Steve moans beneath him, pushing up as Tony pushes down.  They move fluidly, like they’ve been doing this for years.

 

The room is so warm and quiet, the lamp casting shadows around them as they move, and it’s just them here, just their sounds, the quick shush of their breaths, the soft, slow moans, the pitching whines that get higher and higher each time, and it’s just _them_.

 

Steve’s hand tightens on Tony’s hip, his thumb biting against the jutting bone there as it sweeps under his shirt, and then the rest of his hand follows, nails scratching over Tony’s side, and Tony gasps, heat flaring in his belly when Steve does it again.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Steve,” he says, his voice a little hoarse.

 

His fingers fist tighter in Steve’s shirt, bunching the material as he grinds down, and Steve’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth hanging open.  “Tony,” he says, his breath hitching as Tony presses the heel of his hand down, tries to balance himself as Steve bucks up against him.  “Tony, _Tony_ ,” he whines, eyes opening again, and Tony stops breathing as they stare at each other, Steve’s hard breaths echoing in the room, the sounds of their bodies moving together thudding in their ears until all Tony can hear is _them_.

 

“Fuck, Tony, I’m close,” Steve says, and it nearly breaks Tony’s control.  He stutters out of rhythm for a second, and then jumps back in, a little harder, a little more frantic.  “Shit, I’m gonna—Tony,” he gasps, and Tony can feel his thighs trembling beneath him, can feel the muscles in his stomach fluttering.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Tony,” he whines, and he’s so close, Tony can feel it thrumming through his whole body.

 

“Steve.”

 

“Fuck, I’m so close, Tony, I’m gonna come—” and then his voice is pitching into this low, loud moan as his hips twitch upward, and he comes in his pants, lashes fluttering over his cheeks, and Tony presses down against him, chasing after him even as Steve forces his eyes open again, stares up at Tony as his cock pulses beneath him, his whole body shaking.

 

He shifts, and the head of his cock rubs against Steve’s throbbing one through his sweats, and it’s enough friction that he comes undone, crying out as he sags forward, his hips slowing as he stares down at Steve, so close that he can taste his breath on his lips.  “Steve,” he says, trembling as he starts to come down, starts to unwind a little.

 

Steve’s eyes are so blue, Tony wants to stay there forever, but his legs are aching, and so he lifts up a little before he rolls off, dropping onto the bed next to him.  “Shit,” Tony says, closing his eyes, “That was—Jesus, what are we, fourteen, coming in our pants?  Shut up,” he says when he uses Steve to get up, and he almost falls when his feet hit the floor, his knees are shaking so bad.

 

He goes over to the dresser, pulling open his drawer, and he finds boxer briefs and a pair of pants before he goes into the bathroom.

 

As soon as he’s gone, Steve closes his eyes, and he wants to freak out, but he can’t seem to, can’t seem to think of anything but the way Tony had stared at him, and he’d seen lust there, obviously, but something else, something he’s not sure how to define, but it had looked so fond and careful that Steve had wanted to pull him down and hold him there, to memorize this moment between them, and, all of a sudden, it occurs to him.

 

He’s falling for Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, _nana_. Every time I refer to her as Nana Rogers, Erin says she sounds terrifying. Speaking of terrifying, I’ve never actually played _Left 4 Dead_ , just watched here and there, but the fucking witch, NO THANKS. God, I love scary movies so much even though they scare the ever living hell out of me, but give me a scary game, and I will run for the freaking hills, I will not be caught dead doing that. Like, okay, they play _Outlast_ during Thanksgiving break sophomore year, and it _sucks_. It was awful enough watching the trailer, and then writing them play it, _no_. It was so far from fun. It was like that time I had to write about Peter in _raising webhead_ when he got his pet spider, Cooper, and it was crawling everywhere, and now I’m getting itchy just thinking about it, ew ew ew.
> 
> Am I pointedly not talking about what happened at the end? Maybe. Let’s talk about _Dreams_ by Bastille and Gabrielle Aplin because _holy shit that song_. I knew this scene was going to happen for so long, probably almost since the beginning. It was just something that was absolutely happening, and though I didn’t know when, I knew it would, and I kept struggling to think of what the hell I would listen to while I wrote it. I’m very musically driven, so I’m always, _always_ listening to something while I’m writing—I have over 20,000 songs on my iTunes, and there’s a very massive variety, so. But a cool thing happened. When I first discovered Bastille, I listened to two halves of two of their songs and then immediately went and bought the album, and now it’s one of my favorites. I love them, and I love every song they have ever done. Then, while marathoning _Teen Wolf_ for the first time, I stumbled upon Gabrielle Aplin and fell head over heels in love. Lo and behold, they did a song together. I almost fell off Erin’s bed. Suffice to say, the first time I listened to it was probably a few chapters before this, and I write fairly quickly, so it wasn’t long before I was approaching this scene, and it just happened. This became _their song_. The title of this fic comes from it, and I listen to it a lot when they’re doing naughty things together now.
> 
> Ha, naughty things. So— _guys_. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts.


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of Thanksgiving break passes fairly uneventfully.  They continue to spoon at night, and Tony continues to crack jokes about morning wood  _every single morning_ until Steve’s laughing with him.  Tony and Emma bond until Steve can’t find him one day, and so he checks Emma’s room and finds them coloring on the floor.  He continues to do this, disappearing, until Steve finds Riley playing with his hair, braiding it and putting colored extensions in and tying pieces off in tiny ponytails, while they chatter on about boys, and then another time, he’s in Leah’s room while a bunch of Leah’s friends are over, and one of them is painting his toe nails while they all tell him about their different issues at school.  When Tuesday finally comes along, they’re all whining for him to stay, and Tony just hugs each of them and sings about a job well done.  Steve rolls his eyes at him, and then they’re piling into the car and heading back to school.

 

When they get there, Sara helps Steve put his things away while Tony dumps his on his bed, and then he hugs Sara goodbye, who gives him a kiss on the cheek and smiles fondly when he beams up at her.  “Be good,” she says, and Tony just nods quickly before saying goodbye and heading out.

 

He goes down the hall, humming to himself until he reaches the super couple’s room, and he knocks obnoxiously until Bruce opens the door, glaring at him.  “Guess who,” he says, letting Tony in.

 

“Hey sweetie!” Betty calls from the bed.  She’s got one of Bruce’s shirts on, her hair tied up in a messy bun, and that’s when Tony realizes Bruce is only wearing boxers.

 

“Oh,” he says, pausing just over the threshold, “I can come back later.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Bruce says, nodding for him to come in, “What’s up?”

 

Tony sighs, coming over and sitting next to Betty.  Bruce sits next to him, and he leans over, dropping his head on Betty’s shoulder as he reaches for one of Bruce’s hands.  “Shut up,” he says when Bruce starts to complain, so Bruce lets him tangle their fingers together.  He sits there for a bit, Betty petting his hair and Bruce’s fingers fidgeting until Tony sighs again and says, “I made my move.”

 

“And?” Betty asks as Bruce looks over at her, surprised.

 

“We boned.”

 

Betty jumps, Tony whines when his head bounces off her shoulder, and he picks it up, rubbing at his temple as she stares at him with wide eyes.  “ _What_?” she squeaks as Bruce’s hand tightens around Tony’s.

 

“Okay, not like that,” he says, shaking his and Bruce’s hands loose so he can play with his own in his lap.  “We—we had clothes on.”

 

“Oh man, you did the high school jizz, didn’t you?” Bruce says, and Tony nods, “Dude, that shit sucks.”

 

“We used to do that,” Betty says, looking over at him.

 

“Yeah, and coming in your fucking jeans _sucks_.  At least yours is more contained, and then I can’t tell you that my legs are all fucking sticky because then we’re cuddling, and it was awful,” Bruce says, and Betty just stares at him until he finishes, and then she’s laughing.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, shaking her head, “I wanted to go change just as much.”  Bruce groans, and Betty laughs again.  Tony rolls his eyes at both of them, and Betty sighs, leaning over to kiss his cheek.  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says, “You don’t sound happy about it.”

 

“Oh, it was _awesome_.  Like—holy fuck, I don’t even care that we came in our pants, I got Steve to actually fucking _come in his pants_.  Because of me, mind you.  I think that’s a pretty great accomplishment, I just—I dunno—I—” he breaks off, sighing, rubbing his thumb against his other hand like he’s trying to scrub away dirt.  He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s been burning a hole in his brain ever since that night.  “I want to kiss him,” he mumbles finally.

 

“You haven’t _kissed him_?” Bruce says, looking at Tony in shock.  When Tony shrugs one shoulder, not looking up, Bruce reaches over and tugs on his hair so Tony meets his gaze.  “Dude, you fucking boned _in his house_ , and you still haven’t kissed him?”

 

“I didn’t think he was ready for that,” Tony admits, shrugging again.

 

“But boning’s totally cool?”

 

“Okay, fuck you,” Tony says, shoving Bruce, “It’s more intimate, asshole.  It’s one thing, fully clothed, in a not particularly well-lit room, and it’s—it’s an entirely other thing, _kissing_ someone.  That’s your fucking _mouths_ , man.  That’s the end, right there.”

 

“I get it,” Betty says, nodding, “You’re always afraid to kiss someone for the first time, and I can imagine it must be worse for Steve.  He came here thinking he was straight, and then _you_.”

 

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Bruce grumbles, and Tony starts to shrug when he realizes the implication, and he brightens up, looking over at Bruce with a wild grin.  “Oh, shut up,” Bruce says, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“You’re Tonysexual,” he says, jabbing a finger at Bruce’s arm, “You’re totally fucking Tonysexual.”

 

“He is,” Betty says, and Bruce glares at her.

 

“I’ll make out with you, if you want.  Betty said it was okay,” Tony says, and Bruce huffs.

 

“Not yet,” he says, and Tony just makes a triumphant noise.

 

“I’ll get you eventually, Bruce Banner.”

 

“So, what now with Steve?” Betty asks.

 

“I don’t _know_ ,” Tony groans, “I don’t know where to go from here.”

 

“Is he still with Sharon?”

 

“As far as I know, yeah.  It’s all a big fucking mess, and it’s all my fault, and—” he whines as his phone starts buzzing, and he leans over, fishing it out of his pocket.  He sighs at the caller id, and says, “I have to take it, it’s my father,” before he’s sliding off the bed and thumbing over the answer button.  “Thanks, guys,” he says, smiling over his shoulder as he puts the phone to his ear, “Hello, father.”

 

“Anthony.  How was your break?”

 

“Fine,” he says, opening the door and leaving their room, “They were very kind to have me over.”

 

“I hope you were well-behaved.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Will you be coming here for winter break?”

 

“Yes, sir.  If that’s—if that’s acceptable.”

 

“Don’t stutter, Anthony.  It would be improper for you to stay there for such a family holiday.  I’m sure they don’t want you there, regardless.”

 

“Dad—”

 

“Don’t interrupt me,” Howard snaps, and Tony falls quiet, opening the door to his room.

 

Sara’s still there, sitting on Steve’s bed with him, and he knows what they’re talking about, knows that they would eventually, and he starts to turn out again, but Sara shakes her head, waving Tony in.  “You sure?” he asks quietly, looking at Steve.

 

“Yeah, it’s fine, she’s leaving, anyway,” Steve says.

 

“Are you listening to me?” Howard shouts, and Tony flinches, eyes closing briefly.

 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “I’m listening.”

 

“I will not tolerate _mumbling_ , Anthony.  I have not raised you to—”

 

“You didn’t raise me at all,” he says angrily, going across the room to start unpacking.  He holds the phone between ear and shoulder as he yanks open his suitcase.

 

Howard is silent on the other line, and though it terrifies him, Tony starts putting his clothes away.  Sara’s just putting on her jacket and grabbing her bag when he says, “Do I need to come up there?”

 

Tony freezes at his dresser, one hand curled around the drawer.  “No,” he says softly, “I—”

 

“ _Do I_?” Howard says when he doesn’t continue.

 

“No, sir.  I apologize.  That was out of line.”

 

“We’ll discuss your insolence when you come home,” he says shortly before the line goes dead, and Tony slowly puts down his phone, letting out a shaky exhale.

 

“Tony,” Sara says from the other side of the room.

 

He quickly composes himself and turns halfway, smiling.  “Yeah?”

 

Sara sighs.  “Nothing,” she says, “You boys have fun.”  She says goodbye to Steve before she heads out.

 

They lounge around for the rest of the afternoon, doing homework and just hanging out until dinnertime rolls around, and Betty and Bruce come knocking.  Tony whines dramatically, sprawling out on his bed as they come in, and Betty laughs.  “Let’s go, queenie, time for food,” Bruce says, leaning his hip against Betty until she whines at him and leans against the wall.

 

“ _Food_ ,” Tony says, rolling off his bed.

 

“Hey,” Steve says, opening his art bag.

 

“Right, that would be good,” Tony says, holding up a hand.  Steve tosses him the diuretics, brings the others over to his desk and starts to put them away when Tony reaches out, slapping his leg.  “Uppers,” he says, holding up his hand, and Steve quirks an eyebrow before handing down his depression medication.  He takes everything dry as Steve dumps the rest in his desk drawer, and then they’re heading out.

 

——

 

Their first two weeks go by similarly until Friday night is arriving, and Tony’s lying face down in Betty and Bruce’s bed, whining about wanting to go out.  “Take the night off,” Betty says before she’s swan diving, hands curling around Bruce’s shoulders.

 

“That’s _boring_ ,” Tony says, rolling over until he’s on his stomach again, but so that he can see them.  “Bruce, you have a boner,” he says, and Bruce laughs softly.

 

“I’m well aware, Tony,” he says, not looking over, “Have you seen my girlfriend?”  Betty smiles, tipping her head up, and Bruce leans up, kissing her softly before he’s pushing her away, up into the air.  “Yoga with her is spiritual love making.”

 

“Bruce,” Betty says, her smile widening, and then, “You’re totally getting laid tonight.”

 

“ _Score_ ,” Bruce says, and Tony just laughs before stretching and getting off the bed.

 

“Maybe I’ll try that line with Steve,” he says, and Betty laughs as he heads for the door.  “Want me to lock it?”

 

“Yes, please!” Bruce calls, looking over at him and winking.  Tony blows him a kiss before leaving.

 

When he gets back to the room, he’s singing quietly to himself, though he bursts out louder as he boogies into the room, “What you got, boy, is hard to find, I think about it all the time, I’m all strung out, _hello Sharon_!” he cuts his song off, dropping his jazz hands and waving to her.

 

“Hey, Tony,” Sharon says, and then Tony closes the door.

 

“Oh my god,” Steve groans, closing his eyes, “Tony, _get out_.”

 

“Listen, it’s my room, too.  You keep fucking, I’ll just get my things.”  He walks into the room, and Sharon laughs softly, shaking her head as she looks down at Steve.  She’s perched on top of him, and though they’re mostly dressed, Sharon is missing her pants, and Steve is missing his shirt.  Tony dumps a change of clothes and his meds into his backpack, finds his shoes, pulls on his leather jacket, and then grabs his phone, shouldering his backpack as he makes his way back toward the door.  “Careful,” he says when he pulls it open, “He likes that position.”

 

Steve’s gaze whips around, Tony grins, a little bit feral, but every bit daring, and Sharon’s yell builds and then breaks as soon as the door is closed.  “I _knew it_!” she shrieks, and Tony’s grin fades the second he starts to walk away.

 

“What the _fuck_ , Steve?” Sharon yells, scrambling off him and reaching for his pants.

 

“Sharon, no!” he exclaims, hurrying to sit.  He grabs at her elbow, and she shoves him back roughly.

 

“You slept with him!” she accuses, dropping her pants as she pushes him again, “You fucking _slept with him_ , that little—god, I fucking hate him, he’s such a _slut_!”

 

There’s a hundred things he wants to say to come to Tony’s defense, but he can’t, not now, not here, and so he swallows it all down and lies, “No.”  He shakes his head fervently, and Sharon starts to yell at him again when he says, “We didn’t.  He’s—he’s just being an asshole.  He tried to make a move over break, and I wouldn’t let him, but now he’s all pissed off about it.”  She glares at him, and he can tell she doesn’t believe him, so he slips in as much truth as he dares, “Okay, maybe I reacted a little to it, but nothing happened.  I would _never_ do that to you, Sharon.  Tony’s just—he’s just—” he doesn’t know if he can say it, if he can put him as low as everyone else does, if he can degrade him like that, but he does know he’s not ready to admit yet what’s happening between them, what’s happening in his head, and he shakes his head, “He’s just some whore who tries to get with everyone, and he’s pissed off that he can’t have me.”  It hurts more than it should, but it does the trick.  Sharon sits again, and though she still looks put off, she’s a little softer now, a little more willing to listen.

 

“Promise?” she asks.

 

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he says, nodding as he reaches for her, “Come here.”

 

“Steve,” she sighs, folding away in his arms.  He holds her against him, closing his eyes as he tries to banish his own words from his head, but they keep echoing through his brain, and he feels nauseous just thinking about it.

 

——

 

Tony means to go to the gym, to work off some steam because he knows Steve’s lying to Sharon right now, knows he’s going to try to blow the whole thing off, knows that he’s going to convince himself that it wasn’t right, that they shouldn’t have done that, and he just needs to run for a while, needs to run away from it all even as it threatens to chase him down and swallow him whole.

 

“Tony!” someone calls, and he slows, looking around.  He frowns when there’s no body to accompany the voice, but he can hear footsteps somewhere.  Shrugging, he keeps going, though he reaches up, curling his hands around the straps of his backpack.

 

“ _Tony_!”

 

“What the hell,” he mutters, turning, and he’s absolutely blindsided.

 

He hits the ground gasping, his ears ringing, and he looks up blearily to find Luke grinning down at him.  “Luke?” he says, but his voice doesn’t sound right, and he reaches up a hand, fingers shaking as they feel along his jaw, which is aching.  “What the fuck, man?” he groans, trying to get up, but Luke kicks his feet out from under him, and his back slams against the ground as he leans down, shoving a hand against Tony’s chest.  He stares up at him, his vision going in and out as he tries to clear his head.

 

“You think you can just sucker punch me and _leave_?” he seethes, fingers curling in Tony’s layers and jerking him up until their noses are touching.  “You are _mine_ ,” he says, and then he’s kissing Tony.

 

Tony forgets, for half a second, and lets himself melt against Luke’s mouth, kissing him back until his hand scrapes over the ground, and he remembers where he is.  “Fuck you!” he shouts, kicking out and sending Luke stumbling back.

 

He scrambles to his feet, staggers and falls, and pushes himself upright, trying to jump into a run, but Luke grabs his backpack and hauls him back, throwing him like he weighs nothing.  Tony skids against the ground, head slamming back, and he groans softly, rolling onto his side.  “Luke, please,” he says, his breaths coming hard as he tries to pull his hands up and push away from the ground.

 

Luke uses his backpack to move him again, yanking him up until he’s on his ass, and then Luke drops to one knee in front of him.  “You’re pathetic,” he says, looking Tony over, “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

 

He leans in, and Tony’s breath whines out as he turns his head, eyes closing.  His chest is too tight, and he knows it’s just a reaction, but he wants to press his hand against it, wants to push the pain away, and it’s making him short of breath not being able to.  “ _Look at me_ ,” Luke hisses, but Tony keeps his head turned away, trembling.  Luke’s fingers curl tightly around his jaw, nails biting into his skin, jerking Tony’s head back around.

 

Luke shakes his head, letting out an aborted laugh.  “This isn’t over,” he says, standing and holding out his hand.  Tony looks up at him, trying to decide what his best option is, but it looks like it’ll be more painful if he stays on the ground, so he lets Luke help him up, flinching when he leans in close.  “ _We_ aren’t over.”

 

Tony knows he should keep his mouth shut, but it’s always been an issue with him, and he snorts, “Yeah, okay, tough guy.”

 

He shoulders Luke out of his way and starts to go back toward the dorms, tries to walk evenly, tries not to give Luke reason to chase him, but he does anyway, sprinting after him.  Tony tries to run again, but Luke’s already there, throwing an arm around him, pinned against his throat as his other fist comes in, throwing blow after blow into his side as Tony claws at his arm, trying desperately to get free, thrashing his body so Luke has to put all of his strength in holding him there.  It’s not until he’s gasping for breath that Luke lets him drop.  He sags to the ground, choking, and Luke sends a final kick to the chest that knocks the wind out of him.

 

“I’ll see you around, Tony,” Luke says before his footsteps start off away from the dorms.

 

Tony tries to call out, but he can’t catch his breath, and he rolls onto his back, staring up at the dark sky, tears running down his dirty face.

 

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, just that his fingers are freezing when he finally rolls back onto his front and slowly gets to his hands and knees.  He tries to stand and just ends up vomiting all over the sidewalk, his body shaking violently.  A sob wracks through him, and he reaches out, using the sloped lawn nearby to help pull himself up.  He staggers away, crashes against the lawn, and then steels himself, jerking to his feet again.  He’s getting dangerously close to hysteria, and he needs to reach the dorms before he starts panicking, before he can’t breathe anymore.

 

Tony doesn’t know how he makes it back to his dorm, doesn’t know how he gets through the front door and manages to avoid the worry of anyone as he stumbles through the front hall and banks a right toward his floor.  He doesn’t know how he gets down the hall without running into anyone or falling again, but he does know that when he rounds the corner and sees his door, he breaks into a staggering run.  He thuds against the door, trying desperately to get it undone, but it’s locked, it’s fucking _locked_ , and he doesn’t know where his keys are.  He starts patting at his jeans, trying to feel for them, when he hears, “Seriously, Tony,” before Steve’s footsteps are padding across the room.

 

“Steve,” he whispers, and then the door opens, and he collapses.

 

“Tony!” Steve exclaims, and Tony starts fading in and out as Steve gathers him in his arms and carries him into the room.

 

“What the hell?” Sharon gasps as Steve brings Tony over to his bed, motioning for Sharon to get off.

 

“Tony,” Steve whispers, kneeling by the bed and brushing his hair from his face, “Hey, can you hear me?”  Tony whines, eyes opening, and Steve nearly breaks, hand coming up to curl around his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek.  “What happened?” he asks, and Tony just closes his eyes again.

 

“Luke,” he mumbles, and Steve sighs, head dropping forward.

 

“I’m gonna go get the CA,” Sharon says.

 

“No!” Steve and Tony say at the same time, looking over at her.

 

“Steve, look at him!” she exclaims, “I told you Luke was dangerous!  I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re always going around looking for trouble, sleeping with anyone that even remotely gets halfway to yes.”

 

“Fuck you,” Tony groans, and Sharon bristles, but Steve jerks to his feet, turning to her.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, hands coming up to curl around her shoulders, “But you need to go.  He doesn’t need that right now.”

 

“You’re always there to come to his defense,” Sharon says, reaching for her jacket, “We’re not done talking about this.”  Steve nods, and she stalls for a second before leaning forward and kissing him.  “Be careful with him,” she whispers before she’s gone.

 

When the door closes, Steve quickly sets to work, getting Tony’s backpack off first before he helps him upright and strips him of his layers, dropping his jacket and flannel to the ground before he kneels, untying and pulling off his boots.  “Arms up,” he says softly, and Tony slowly raises his arms, whining as he does.  Steve sighs, carefully rolling up his shirt and pulling it over his head.  “Shit, Tony,” he says, fingers flitting over his bruised torso.  They’re still forming, but it’s a mess already, black and blue scattering across his front and around his side, only just touching his back.  He lets his gaze travel over him, looking for other injuries, and then he notices the faint red mark against his throat.  “What is this?” he demands, eyes snapping up to Tony’s.

 

“He tried to choke me,” he says hoarsely.

 

Steve grits his teeth, and he has to refrain from storming from the room and finding Luke so he can put him in the ground.  Instead, he goes to find a water, handing it over to Tony, who takes it gratefully, before he opens his drug drawer and looks through until he finds pain killers.  “Are these still good?” he asks, trying to check for a label.

 

“Who knows,” Tony grumbles, holding out a hand, so Steve tosses them over.

 

“Do you want anything else?”

 

“Fuck _yes_.  Um, there’s—sleeping pills in there somewhere, I think.”

 

Steve rummages around, checking labels, before he finds them and taps out one, putting it away before he comes back over.  “You should shower first,” he says, and Tony nods, closing his eyes.

 

“I think I’m probably gonna throw up if I stand,” he murmurs, and Steve sighs, sitting next to him.

 

“Did you go to him?” he asks quietly.

 

“I was walking to the fucking gym,” Tony says, and Steve frowns as his head drops forward, his shoulders trembling lightly, “I didn’t fucking ask for it this time, I _didn’t_.  I didn’t deserve this, Steve.”

 

“I know,” Steve sighs, letting his forehead rest against Tony’s shoulder.

 

“I didn’t deserve this,” Tony whispers, and Steve looks over when Tony reaches for him, taking one of his hands.  He lets Tony thread their fingers together, and he thinks he’s starting to understand Tony a little.  He thinks, maybe, that he’s physical for a reason, that maybe he’s been starved for attention and touch all his life that he takes it whenever it’s available, and maybe he gets hurt because of that, because he puts his whole self into everything he does and expects it all back in return.

 

Tony’s hand is shaking when he holds Steve’s hand, and so Steve covers it with his other hand, lifting them to press a kiss to Tony’s knuckles.  “I didn’t deserve this,” he says again, and Steve closes his eyes.  “It wasn’t my fault this time.”

 

“Tony,” he sighs, turning his head so his nose brushes Tony’s neck.

 

“I know it’s always my fault, I know I’m always asking for it, I _am_ , but I didn’t want this, I never wanted it, I tried so hard, Steve.  I tried to end it with him, I tried to be better for you, and I didn’t—I didn’t _deserve_ this.  It wasn’t my fault this time.”

 

Steve stops breathing, just sits there with him as Tony shakes.

 

After a while of silence, Steve lifts his head and says, “Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?”

 

“I think I can do it,” Tony says, though he keeps holding onto Steve’s hand when he tries to stand.  He sits almost immediately, one of his hands coming up to his stomach.  “Nope, definitely not,” he says, his voice tight.

 

“Stay there,” Steve says, dropping a kiss to his shoulder before he goes to grab Tony’s things.  He empties out his backpack, puts his things away, and then comes back for him, pulling him upright and winding an arm around his waist so Tony can lean into him.

 

They make their way down the hall and into the handicap stall, and Tony groans, pushing away from Steve and making a beeline for the toilet.  Steve closes the door, sliding the lock, as Tony heaves into the toilet, sweat shining on his body under the fluorescent lights.  Steve puts down his caddy before he turns on the shower.  Tony leans back on his heels after a few minutes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Come on,” Steve says softly, holding out a hand.  Tony lets him help him up, flushing the toilet before he goes over to the shower.  He takes his jeans off slowly, his hands shaking, and then Steve’s looking away when he reaches for his boxer briefs.

 

“Blushing virgin,” Tony mutters, and Steve can’t help smiling.  He looks back when the curtain rustles, but Tony’s already inside, and so he goes to sit by the wall, gathering his jeans and briefs.  He sits there in silence, cheek resting on his knees as he stares at the shower curtain, trying to figure out what’s going on.  Tony is mostly quiet, though he makes the occasional pained noise, and once, he snorts and says, “Motherfucker actually fucking cut me.”  He pulls the curtain back a little, showing Steve his back, where blood is running down his side in a thin rivulet, and Steve means to only look at his back, but his ass is just _there_ , and Tony grins when he looks.  “Yeah, I know,” he says, closing the curtain again, “You want to put your dick in my ass.”

 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, and Tony just laughs quietly.

 

When he’s done, Steve stands up, handing over his towel as he comes out, shivering in the cool air.  He wraps the towel around his waist, Steve gathers his clothes, and Tony reaches for his caddy, leading the way out.

 

When they get back to the room, Tony changes slowly while Steve looks through his things for something to bandage Tony’s back up with.  He finally finds the first aid kit his mom made him pack, and Tony smiles fondly when Steve comes over with an alcohol swab and a swath of gauze.  “Shut up,” he mutters, and Tony holds still, shirt in his hand as Steve rips open the alcohol swab and carefully wipes it over the cut.  Tony whines, wincing, and Steve just rolls his eyes at him, so Tony sticks his tongue out at him, so Steve kisses his shoulder, and Tony grins.  He presses the gauze over it after, tapes it down, and then leaves to wash his hands.  When he returns, Tony’s curled up in his bed near the wall, and Steve just shakes his head and sighs.  “You’re so predictable,” he mumbles, and Tony nods.

 

“I know,” he says, his eyes heavy, “I can move, if you want, if it’s—I dunno—if you’re—” he breaks off to yawn, so wide it cracks his jaw, and he groans, eyes closing.

 

“You took the sleeping pill, didn’t you?” Steve sighs, dropping down at his desk.

 

“Yup,” Tony hums, snuggling into Steve’s pillow a little more, “Gotta tell me now, muscles, if you want me to move.”

 

“You’re fine,” Steve says, and Tony just smiles blearily at him.  Steve starts to open his laptop when he notices the arrangement of bottles on Tony’s desk, and he panics a little, looking back at Tony.  “What else did you take?” he asks, but Tony’s already snoring.  Steve pauses to glare at him, and then goes over, looking at the different bottles.  The sedatives are out, and the sleeping pills are uncapped again, and something else that he can’t figure out.  He sighs, looking over at Tony, who is far into slumber now, and he hopes that he knows enough not to mix the wrong things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, early again! I dunno, I had a really good weekend—in general and with writing—so I thought you guys deserved another early chapter. Also, I’ve just checked to see what’s coming next for you guys—oh boy. You’re going to hate me, whoops. Fun news, though, I’ve just about reached Christmas break for sophomore year, which should be fun since the boys are finally together, but also because I have a lot of interesting ideas I’m going to try out. Anyway, I won’t keep you. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! This is a pretty epic freaking party, though not quite as awesome as the one Johnny throws later one—we haven’t met him yet, don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything—but I’d recommend these two songs by Kesha: [Take it Off](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpFMuBHxGWs) and [Blow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXNSwkmoWqs). I’d give you more, but it’s not too long, and I’ve got other parties to do later on that I want to save some of her other songs for, so have a listen to these, and enjoy!

In the morning, the sun is high and bright when Steve stirs, coming up out of slumber and slowly blinking his eyes open.  His alarm is going off, waves crashing through their room, and he starts to shift when Tony makes a soft noise.  “Sh,” he whispers, mouth pressing lazily against his mess of hair.  He keeps his left arm wrapped around him, hand fanning along his side, as he leans back, hitting snooze with his right hand.  He rolls back, holding Tony a little closer.  He’s trying not to pay attention to _how_ they’re lying together because this is something that certainly hasn’t happened yet, and it kind of works because he’s enjoying it so much that nothing else really matters.

 

Tony’s facing him, head tucked under his chin, nose pressing along Steve’s sternum, hands balled up between them.  Steve’s right leg is slid between Tony’s thighs so one of Tony’s legs is curled around his leg, just below his hip, foot coming around to tuck over Steve’s shin.  He’s got both arms wrapped tightly around Tony, trapping him in the warm cage of his arms, and Tony seems more than content to be there.

 

“Hungry,” Tony mumbles, burrowing closer.

 

“We should get dressed,” Steve says before he yawns.  He runs a hand up and down the length of Tony’s spine, and Tony hums, head tilting up.  His nose bumps Steve’s chin before he’s pressing a soft, wet kiss just below his chin.

 

“I think I still need to throw up,” he mumbles, head tilting back down a little so that his hair tickles Steve’s neck.

 

Steve’s hand runs back down and then pauses, tracing a circle in Tony’s side before he’s letting the tips of his fingers slide beneath his shirt and run over his back.  Tony hums again, his body vibrating with the sound, and Steve’s hand slides farther, settling against Tony’s warm skin.  “Tony,” he whispers, closing his eyes and breathing him in.

 

Tony shifts closer, pressing their groins together, and he lets out this barely there groan when he finds Steve half hard.  He presses a hot kiss to Steve’s chest, lips brushing cotton, and he rolls their hips together.  Steve’s nails scrape over his back as his fingers bunch, and his other hand skips down his spine to curl over Tony’s ass, resting there.  He rolls them together again, breath shushing out of him as Steve squeezes his ass, pushing him closer, nails biting into his skin.

 

“Steve,” he whispers, setting a slow, easy rhythm, “Steve, _god_.”

 

“Yes,” Steve groans, hand sliding further up his back, and Tony is falling apart at the seams as he drags his nails as he goes, pulling a full body tremor from Tony.

 

“Steve,” Tony sighs, pressing his face into his chest.  His skin is on fire, Steve’s fingers leaving little trails of searing licks of flame, dancing over him until Tony feels like he might burst.  His foot unhooks from Steve’s shin, thigh shifting higher to settle around Steve’s hip, pushing them closer together.  He squirms one of his hands out and reaches down between them, cupping Steve through his pajama pants.  Steve lets out this breathy moan, pushing into Tony’s hand, and _god_ , he can feel him, he can fucking _feel him_ , and Tony decides he’s going to take the final leap, just go for it and see what happens.

 

His fingers skim up, one hooking over the waistband of Steve’s pajama pants, scratching against Steve’s stomach, and Steve’s hips twitch toward him.  “Tony,” he pants, pressing closer to him, his hand sliding away from his ass and sliding beneath pants and boxer briefs, and Tony gasps as Steve’s hand curls around his bare ass, yanks him closer.

 

“God, I want you to fuck me,” Tony says, his breath stuttering out of him as his other fingers curl around, wrist twisting.

 

Steve freezes.

 

His hand comes out of Tony’s pants so fast, Tony aches from the loss.  “Steve,” he says even as Steve’s other hand disappears from his back.  “Steve, no.  Please, don’t do this to me,” he says, but Steve’s gone, he’s already fucking gone, he’s leaving him, _again_.

 

“I can’t do this,” Steve says as he paces away from Tony, “I can’t fucking do this.”

 

“Fuck you,” Tony spits as Steve yanks open the door and runs away from him again.  Tony throws the nearest object he can reach, seething as Steve’s brushes scatter everywhere, the mason jar smashing against the wall.

 

——

 

They avoid each other all day.  Tony claims the room, rolling a blunt after lunch and telling Steve to “either get out or get fucked,” so Steve throws a nasty insult at him, “good, get high so you don’t know what you’re fucking doing again tonight,” before he storms out, and he doesn’t mean to end up in front of Betty and Bruce’s room, but he doesn’t know where else to turn.

 

Bruce calls for him to come in, and he does so, looking around when he doesn’t see Betty.  “She’s out at the store being an awesome girlfriend,” Bruce says, smiling sleepily from where he’s curled up on their bed with a mug of tea and a book.  “Come sit, I’m not contagious,” he says, patting the bed next to him.  Steve comes in and sits next to him, crossing his legs.  Bruce stretches his legs out, groaning when his knees pop, and he marks his page before putting his book down.  “What’s up, man?  You look awful.”

 

“I think I screwed up things with Tony.”

 

“ _With_ Tony?” Bruce asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“I don’t fucking know, man,” Steve sighs, letting his head drop back.

 

Bruce looks at him for a few moments before laughing softly and shaking his head.  “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, glancing at him.

 

“Talk to me.  I’ll channel my inner Betty and try to listen.”

 

Steve laughs, lifting his head.  “I’m not saying I’m— _gay_ , but—I dunno, it’s complicated.”

 

“I think you’re Tonysexual, Steve.”

 

Steve gives him an absurd look.  “You used the word,” he says, and Bruce snorts.

 

“I know,” he says, and then groans, reaching for a tissue.  He sneezes, coughs, and then settles again, sipping his tea.  “I think I’m Tonysexual, too,” he mumbles, “He’s fucking addictive, man.”

 

“Did he tell you about—break?” Steve finishes lamely.

 

“Yeah, you guys boned, good for you.”

 

“We didn’t—”

 

“I know, I know, I’m just busting your chops, man.  Give me a break, I’m hacking up a lung.  So, what?  Did something happen again?”

 

“Kind of,” Steve sighs, reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck, “I don’t know, this morning, we—it was weird, and—he _said_ something, and I totally freaked out.”

 

“You wanna tell me what he said?”  Steve stalls, staring down at his lap.  “Hang on,” Bruce says suddenly, reaching for his tissue again.  “Motherfucker,” he groans afterward, and then he sags to the right, leaning against Steve, head slumping on his shoulder.

 

“He told me he wanted me to fuck him,” Steve says, and Bruce starts coughing.  He holds up his tea, and Steve takes it as he straightens before curling over.  Steve switches hands, rubbing Bruce’s back as he continues to cough, shaking a little.  When he finishes, he groans, lifting his hand.  Steve hands down his tea, and he drinks it gratefully, sitting up again.

 

“Sorry, that was totally not a reaction,” he says hoarsely, “Though _shit_ , I’d have freaked out, too, man.  Fucking making you admit that, _hey_ , Tony Stark has a really nice fucking ass, and I kind of want to put my cock in it and see what that feels like.”

 

“Yeah!” Steve exclaims, and then realizes what he’s agreed to, “Shit.”

 

“Exactly.  It’s not really an enlightening revelation.  It’s more like discovering you’ve been into guys your whole life, but never knew it until you met him.  He’s kind of like this really awesome cancer that just fucking latches on and never lets go, and it’s kind of badass and a little bit terrifying, and you’re just sat there like, well fuck, maybe I’m into guys, too.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“I don’t fucking know,” Bruce mumbles, sipping his tea again, and then, “Oh balls, it’s all gone.  Make me another.”  He hands over the mug, and Steve gets up to do as he’s told, going over to Bruce’s desk where a kettle is sitting on a hot plate, and he flicks the switch, waiting for it to heat up.  “I’m totally into Tony, though,” Bruce says, leaning back against the wall and looking over at Steve, “My _god_ , if I wasn’t head over heels for Betty, I might actually consider fucking him, and if you tell him I said that, I will _cut your dick off_.”

 

Steve laughs, nodding.  “As long as you return the favor,” he says, pouring the water and reaching for a tea bag.

 

When he brings it back over, Bruce hums appreciatively, and says, “If I wasn’t sick, I’d offer to make out with you, see if that would help.”

 

“Thanks, man,” Steve says, sitting next to him again.

 

Bruce holds the mug under his nose, sighing when the steam hits his face.  “So, what now?” he asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve murmurs.

 

“Maybe you should just—I dunno, hook up with a few guys here and there, see if it’s your thing, or if you’re just into Tony.  I really think Tonysexual is a legit thing.”

 

“I still have a girlfriend.”

 

“Dude, be real with me,” Bruce says before he takes a sip and then looks over at him, “Do you really like Sharon?”

 

Steve looks down at his lap.  “I don’t know anymore,” he admits.

 

“Well, then stop fucking stringing her along.  You need to sort out your head,” Bruce jabs a finger against his temple, and Steve flinches back, looking over at him, “Figure that shit out, and then see where it leaves you, but don’t drag her through that.”

 

Steve nods, and Bruce settles again.  They sit together for a while until Betty comes in, arms laden with bags.  “Moon of my life,” Bruce says, smiling blearily at her.

 

“My sun and stars,” Betty says, smiling softly, “Hey, Steve.”

 

“Hey,” he says as he waves, scooting to the edge of the bed.

 

“You can stay,” Bruce says, flapping a hand at him.

 

“No, I should probably go and face the music,” he says, looking back, and Bruce nods.

 

“Good luck, man.  Butts are fun, no matter what gender,” Bruce says, and Steve laughs, heading for the door.

 

——

 

Tony isn’t in the room when he gets back, and he isn’t there for dinner, either.  They’re supposed to be going out to a party tonight, though, and so he’s a little put off when ten thirty rolls around, and Tony still hasn’t shown up.  He decides to head out alone, texting Sharon on his way.  The party is at some rugby player’s place, and all Steve really knows is that Tony slept with him a couple times.  He’s met him once or twice, this big hulking dude, Thor, who yells more often than he speaks.  He lives in an apartment downtown, and so it’s a bit of a walk, but Steve uses the cold, dark night to clear his head before he gets there.

 

When he does, the party is already well underway, and he can’t help the grin that slides into place as someone cheers when the door opens, and a resounding shout goes up.  Steve lets the door close behind him again, looking around.  The apartment is absolutely _vibrating_ , the bass thudding through the place until Steve’s eardrums are probably shaking a little.  He ditches his jacket somewhere near the door so he’ll remember where it is, and then heads in, making a beeline for one of the many coolers.  He grabs a beer, knocking the cap off on a nearby table, and he mulls about for a bit, just observing, drinking until he’s starting to feel a nice buzz, and then someone’s shouting his name, and he doesn’t know how he hears it, just that he does.

 

He turns, waving when he sees Peggy and Pepper coming toward him.  “Where’s Sharon?” he yells over the music as Pepper steps around him, going for the cooler.

 

“Still back at her room.  Had to deal with some shit with our mom.  Thanks, babe,” she adds when Pepper comes back over with beers.  They drink easily together, and then Peggy’s looking for something stronger, and by the time they actually make it out into the throng of dancing bodies, Steve’s tipped past buzzed into drunk.

 

Peggy and Pepper tug him into their crazy circle, and he dances with them until some nameless brunette is sliding between he and Peggy, and he grins, letting her settle in front of him.  Eventually, Pepper comes along with drinks again, and Steve buggers off to do a shot and then drink whatever Pepper is pushing into his hands.  He’s feeling _good_ when he makes it back to the crowd, and then he sees Tony.

 

Steve decides to throw caution to the wind, and he pushes through, letting himself smirk when Tony finally looks up and sees him.  “Hel _lo_ , butt cheeks,” Tony croons, and then Steve’s reaching out, grabbing his hand, and tugging him away from whoever he’s dancing with.  “Thought so,” Tony says, following Steve until they’re in the midst of sweaty, pulsing bodies, and that’s when he realizes Tony’s shirtless, his torso covered in a thin sheen of sweat and some kind of marker.

 

“What the hell?” Steve says, touching the marker, and then the room is plunged into darkness.  A second later, black lights flare on, and Tony cheers with the rest of the crowd, feet jumping off the ground in quick succession.  His body glows in the light, and Steve groans, hands curling around his hips as he pulls Tony against him, and _holy fuck_.

 

Tony grinds his ass into Steve’s lap like he was made to dance, his hips rolling fluidly as his back thuds against Steve’s chest, arms in the air as the track changes, and Steve recognizes it, that fucking song that was playing the second time they were together like this, the first time Tony tried to drive him crazy and it almost worked.

 

Tony groans when Steve moves against him, dancing as dirtily as he is, the hard curve of his cock pressing against Tony’s ass.  He reaches up higher, arms looping up around Steve’s neck, fingers threading through his hair and holding himself there, and Steve just gives in.  He slides his hands over to his stomach, one hand brushing up along his torso to settle against his chest, the other coming down to curl over Tony’s denim dick, palming him through his jeans.

 

“Steve,” Tony sighs, closing his eyes and turning his head so it lands against Steve’s shoulder.  Steve takes the opening immediately, head tilting down so he can mouth at the line of Tony’s neck, laying wet kisses down until he reaches his shoulder, and he bites lightly, pressing his grin against Tony’s skin when Tony shudders.  He kisses over to his throat, licks a stripe up that makes Tony gasp, and then he bites his jaw, nibbling up until he can kiss his ear.  “Fuck, Steve,” Tony moans.

 

Steve pulls his hand away, and Tony starts to whine when he wiggles his fingers beneath his jeans, sliding under, and Tony’s head comes up when Steve’s warm hand dips under, coming to settle again over his cock, his boxer briefs the only thing between them.  Steve uses the opportunity to nudge Tony’s head farther forward so he can kiss down the back of his neck, pausing to bite when he reaches the nape, and Tony moans loudly, shivering when Steve sucks a nasty bruise there, licking over it before he kisses his mark and then mouths back up Tony’s neck.

 

Tony’s fingers curl around his wrist, and he pulls Steve’s hand from his pants, turning, pressing them close together.  Tony opens his mouth, but it’s not his voice when someone yells, “Steve!”

 

“Fucking _no_ ,” Tony snaps as Steve looks past him, his hands coming up to fist in Steve’s hair and pulling him down.

 

Steve makes a soft noise of surprise as his eyes meet Tony’s, blue on blue, bright and beautiful, and Tony pauses, lips parted around a pant.  He needs him to say yes, needs him to say this is okay, and then Steve leans farther forward, nose brushing along Tony’s, and he takes his green light.

 

Tony tilts his head up, pushing their mouths together, licking into Steve’s mouth and sighing when Steve’s hand settles on his back, holding him close, kissing him back with every ounce of want Tony’s giving him.  His other hand comes up to curl around Tony’s jaw, pinning him there, licking the roof of his mouth and humming when Tony trembles in his arms, breath rushing out to fill Steve’s mouth.

 

They part as the track switches again, dropping into something smooth and low, something that thrums through them and brings Steve back down, teeth scraping over Tony’s lip before he’s pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  Tony exhales shakily, letting Steve explore, though it’s not like he could move his head if he wanted to, not with Steve’s thumb hooked under his jaw.

 

“Steve,” he whispers, opening his eyes.

 

Steve opens his, as well, looking down at Tony with such certainty that Tony needs, _needs_ to kiss him, and he surges back up, pulling them back together, tongue flicking over his teeth before he’s tasting him, memorizing the shape of his mouth.  Steve presses them as close as he can get them, tilts Tony’s head back a little as he kisses him.

 

They share breath, losing themselves in each other until there’s nothing there but _them_ , still in the midst of so much light and trembling bodies, mouths dancing like they’re long lost lovers from another lifetime.  They kiss until Tony’s feeling lightheaded, and then Steve’s pulling away to gasp in air, his hand shaking where it’s still hooked around Tony’s jaw.  “God, Tony,” he sighs, pressing their foreheads together.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Tony whispers, and Steve opens his eyes, staring down at him.  He’s a little fuzzy, this close, but he can see the blue of his eyes, and it gives him courage.

 

“Okay,” Steve says, and then the lights flare on.

 

They pull apart, blinded.  The music cuts, and then, “Everybody out!”  There’s a rush of bodies, and Tony’s shoved away from Steve.  He looks up, and he stops breathing, jostled as he stands there, people hurrying past him.  Steve is bent toward Sharon, listening to her as she cups a hand around his ear and tries to be heard over the noise, and Steve nods, straightening.  He looks up, and he sees Tony through it all.

 

Tony sees his mouth move, and he tries to catch his voice, but he can’t, can only make out the words he doesn’t want, “I’m sorry.”

 

——

 

Tony remembers one thing after that—Thor.  He remembers grabbing him and yanking him toward his bedroom, remembers Thor saying, “Dude, I’m _wasted_ ,” remembers shrugging and saying, “I’m not,” remembers letting Thor fuck him until he’s aching, remembers waking up in his bed the next morning, gathering his things before Thor wakes up, and heading back to his own room, remembers Steve not being there, the fucking _coward_.

 

Sunday morning, Steve wakes up in Sharon’s bed, wakes up to her kissing down his chest, and he just sighs and lets it happen, lets her bring him to the edge before he pulls her up, rolls over, and fucks her.  Afterward, they shower together, and then, as Steve’s getting ready for his run, she asks if he’s staying, he asks if it’s okay if he does, and she just smiles and climbs back into bed.

 

Around lunchtime, Betty and Bruce make their way down the hall, frowning as they get closer to Tony’s room, and all they can hear is the dull roar of things breaking.  Betty knocks and then opens the door, and something sails across the room and smashes against the wall next to the door.  Betty jumps, shouting, and Bruce hurries inside, checking if she’s okay.  “Tony, what the hell!” he yells.

 

“I thought you were fucking Steve!” he screams, and then another mason jar shatters against the wall by his closet, “I am going to fucking—”

 

“Tony!” Betty shouts, cutting him off, and he turns toward them, hands curled around a case of colored pencils.  She comes into the room, Bruce closing the door as he follows.  Betty carefully crosses the room, stepping over the glass everywhere, and takes the colored pencils from his hands.  “Sweetie,” she says, steering Tony toward Steve’s bed and sitting him down, “What’s going on?”

 

“That _fucker_!” he exclaims, jumping up again, but Betty yanks him down, and Bruce comes over, sitting at Steve’s desk and facing them.

 

“Hey,” Betty says, rubbing his back, “Calm down.  Take a few deep breaths.  Tell us what happened.”

 

“He fucking put his hands in my pants, _twice_ , that motherfucking ass monkey shithead, and then fucking _kissed me_ before he fucking left with his stupid, shitty, asswipe of a girlfriend!  I’m going to _murder him_!” he erupts, tearing the pencils out of Betty’s hands and ripping the case open.  He starts snapping them before she grabs the case, and some of them fly out, scattering across the floor.

 

“Tony!” Betty yells, grabbing his wrists and pulling him back.  He starts to fight, and Bruce octopuses him, wrapping around him and hauling him down into his lap.  Tony fumes, letting himself be held.  “I get it, okay?” Betty says, sitting again, “I get why you’re angry, but this isn’t okay.  This is a _tantrum_ , and you need to stop.  Let’s just go to lunch, and we’ll talk about it.”

 

“Please get out of my room,” Tony says quietly, and Bruce lets him go.  He stalks over to his side of the room, dropping down at his desk and opening his laptop.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Get out before I say something I’ll regret later.  I know I’m not being rational, Betty, I’m fully aware.  I haven’t had a single fucking drink all weekend, so don’t try to pretend I’m just throwing a tantrum.  I know what I’m doing.  Get out.”

 

“Come on,” Bruce says, taking her hand, “He’ll burn out eventually.”

 

Tony waits for them to go, and then he goes back over and finishes snapping his pencils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Well then._ Oh man, I’ve been waiting so long to get this chapter up. The fallout for this is so awful, and it was so much fun to write, and yes, I might be a bit of a masochist, but oh well. It took us thirteen chapters to get to their first kiss, guys, _jeez_. And now, we’re very close to Christmas break, which is probably some of my favorite chapters, so I’m excited to get there. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	14. Chapter 14

Later that night, after he’s started to lose his fire, after Steve still hasn’t come home, when Tony is sitting on his bed, staring at the destruction all around him, he takes one of his tablets, pushes in an earphone, and says, “Jarvis, figure out what art brands Steve uses and order him new supplies, please.”

 

“For everything, sir?”

 

“I’m going to destroy it all, so yes.  Send it to his house so he gets it over break.”

 

He spends a few hours trying to distract himself on his tablet, gets bored, and thumbs through his contacts until he finds someone who will still be awake and has something that’ll take the edge off.

 

The guy is already high as a fucking kite when he gets there, so the exchange is fairly quick, and then Tony’s snorting a few lines before he gets to work gluing Steve’s furniture to the ceiling.

 

——

 

Monday morning, Steve leaves while Sharon is sleeping, goes out for his run, and then leaves for class before she wakes up.  He spends all of English doodling in his notebook and thinking about everything, and by the time they’re released, he’s made his decision.

 

When he gets back to Sharon’s room, she’s getting ready for class, sitting at her desk and applying her makeup.  Steve comes in quietly, gathers his things, and sits on her bed.  “Sharon, we need to talk.”

 

“Can it wait?” she says, finishing one eye and moving to the next, “I have to leave for class soon.”

 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

 

She pauses, and then lowers her eyeliner and looks over.  He knows she can see it there, and she shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes.  “No,” she says.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve murmurs, “I never meant to let this happen, I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“It’s because of Tony, isn’t it?” she shouts, throwing her eyeliner at him.  He catches it, placing it down on her desk.  “That fucking whore, I’ll—”

 

“Sharon,” he stops her, “This isn’t because of him.  It’s—it’s me.  I need to figure out what’s going on in my head.  I’ve been so confused lately, and it’s only getting worse, and I can’t be with you, not when I’m afraid I’ll just keep hurting you.”

 

“Have you slept with him?” she asks, looking away as tears slip out of her eyes, falling down her cheeks.

 

“No.”

 

“Have you done _anything_ with him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Get out.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, standing and shouldering his backpack.  He steps closer, leaning down to kiss her hair before he leaves.

 

He goes to the snack bar instead of the caf, knowing Tony will probably be there by now, and he’s terrified of seeing him.  He can’t hide forever, though, and so he lingers around in the snack bar, drawing until it’s time for class, and then he heads down to the gym.

 

He’s running a little late, so his class is already changed and out in the gym when he goes into the locker room.  Steve hurries to change, and then he jogs down the track to where his class is stretching out, spread around one of the rooms.  The track runs around a huge, curtained off section in the middle, curtains separating different sections, and Steve’s class is in the last one.  He nods to their teacher on his way in, gaze darting around for Tony when he hears, “Stark, where are you going?”  And then, a second after Steve sees Tony tearing across the room toward him, he’s being hit in the face so hard he staggers backward.

 

Their teacher starts shouting as Tony keeps going, other fist swinging around to catch him on the other side, and then he’s being restrained as he starts screaming, “You show your face _now_?  _Really_?  After everything, and—”

 

“Anthony!” their teacher shouts over him, and then, “Someone help me!”

 

A couple of the bigger guys jump up and hurry over, and their teacher passes Tony off to them, who fights for a few seconds before settling, glaring at Steve as his chest heaves.  “Dude,” one of the guys says, looking at Tony in surprise.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snaps, ripping out of their hold.  He stands there, surrounded by them, as their teacher takes Steve by the elbow and leads him out.

 

“What the hell was that about?” he demands as he takes Steve down the track.

 

“I have no idea,” Steve lies.

 

Their teacher doesn’t speak until they’ve reached the changing rooms again, and Steve looks back at him uncertainly.  “Learn how to lie,” he says, turning away, “You’ll both be written up.  Go home.”

 

Steve obeys, and he lingers outside of the gym once he’s done, waiting for Tony, who comes out a few minutes later.  He goes right past Steve, backpack hooked over his shoulders and boots scraping against the ground as he storms away.  Steve jogs after him, trying, “Tony—”

 

Tony whips around and punches him in the chest, enough that Steve doubles over, gasping.  “Don’t fucking talk to me,” Tony hisses before he keeps going.

 

When Steve unfolds, Tony is far ahead of him, and he sighs, following him.  He starts to get close near their dorm, and he raises his voice so Tony will hear him, “Can we just talk about this?”

 

“You wanna fucking talk?” Tony shouts, not turning and not stopping, “You wanna talk about how you fucking left me to go fuck your girlfriend after you put your hand down my fucking pants!”

 

“Tony!”

 

“What, are you afraid that people might hear me?  _Guess what_!” he screams, whipping around, “They definitely fucking _saw us_!  Or did you forget that we were in the middle of a fucking party, you _moron_?”  He turns away and keeps walking before Steve can catch up, though Steve runs, grabbing his elbow and pulling Tony to a stop.  “Touch me again, watch what happens!” Tony warns.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, not letting go of his elbow.

 

“Steve Rogers is a fucking homo!” he screams as loud as he can, giving Steve his worst smile before he tears out of his grip and keeps going.

 

“So are you!” Steve tries to counter with.

 

“At least I’m not afraid to fucking _say it_ , you _coward_!  Yes, I like to fuck men, and I like to fuck women, and I like to fuck whoever the hell wants to fuck, and I don’t care if people know instead of _you_ , who can’t even admit that you have a fucking crush on me!  _Guess what_!”  He starts stomping up the stairs to their building, and he turns when he reaches the door, keycard clicking.  He opens it as he hisses, “I know you want to fuck me, and _now_?  Good fucking luck trying to get even _close_.”

 

He yanks the door shut before Steve can get in, and so Steve has to dig out his keycard.  By the time he comes around the corner, Tony is just letting himself into their room.  He jogs down the hall before he can be locked out, and the door is starting to shut when he throws out a hand, catching it and pushing it back open.

 

“Tony—”

 

Tony’s backpack comes whipping around and smacks Steve.  He hits the wall, and then throws up a hand, catching it as it comes back the other way.  He yanks the backpack out of Tony’s hands and throws it into the corner.

 

Tony’s already across the room, at Steve’s desk, when the door slams.  “Tony, no!” Steve shouts, but he’s already chucking his bowl of erasers across the room.  The bowl shatters against the wall and the erasers scatter everywhere, and that’s when Steve notices the state of the room, and, “Where the fuck is all my stuff?” he asks, looking around because only his desk and bed are still there.

 

“Where it fucking _belongs_!” Tony shouts, pointing up, and Steve gapes because holy shit, he glued his furniture to the ceiling.

 

“You’re not even that tall!” Steve says in disbelief.

 

“Yeah, well, some people are nice enough to help when I explain the fucking situation to them!”

 

“Okay, can we just talk about it?  I’m—”

 

“No, we can’t fucking talk about it!” Tony says, picking up the last of the mason jars and throwing it.  Steve ducks, and it just barely goes over his head.  “You put your fucking hand in my pants!  You don’t fucking do that unless you plan on _fucking_ , asshole!  You don’t just touch someone’s _ass_ and then later put your hand on their fucking cock and expect a whispered _I’m sorry_ is going to be enough!  You can’t just kiss me and then go off to fuck your girlfriend!  That is _not_ how this works!  I am sick of being strung around like some fucking ragdoll that you sometimes pretend to like!  I could fucking understand in the beginning—you didn’t know if you might be gay or not, I get that, and so I thought I’d give you some fucking time, but then you kept _fucking kissing me_!”

 

“I never—”

 

“Shoulders, Steve!  Fucking shoulders and neck and back and ear and hand and head—fucking _everywhere_ but my fucking mouth!  You can’t just fucking _do that_!”

 

“I was terrified!” Steve yells, finally getting a word in, “I didn’t know what was happening to me, and you, Tony, you’re just— _you_.”

 

“Oh, _me_?  Good, you fucking know who I am!” he shrieks, turning back toward Steve’s desk, and Steve runs across the room as he reaches for his laptop.  He grabs Tony, who drops the laptop and kicks him as hard as he can.  “Don’t put your fucking hands on me!” he screams, fist swinging around wildly, and Steve tackles him to the bed.

 

Tony starts screaming, and Steve catches, for a split second before it melts into fury, the pure terror there.  He fights Steve in a way that Steve can only describe as defensive, nails and teeth and flailing until Steve’s backing off, jerking to his feet as Tony scrambles upright and backs into the corner.  “You—” but Tony’s voice cracks, and Steve sees it there in his eyes, his clear, blue eyes.

 

“I was _drunk_ , Tony,” he says.

 

“I _wasn’t_.”

 

He doesn’t know what to say because he hadn’t expected that.  Someone starts knocking on the door, yelling, “CA!  Open up!”  They stay there, staring at each other, until their CA yells again, “Guys, I will come in there!”

 

“Coming!” Steve calls, turning away.  He opens the door just enough to step outside, closing the door behind him again.  “I’m sorry, Tony’s a little under the weather right now,” he lies through his teeth.

 

“What the hell is all the noise, then?” she demands, folding her arms over her chest.

 

“We got into a bit of a fight.  I’m sorry, Amanda, we’ll keep it down.”

 

“If I get another complaint, I have to call campus security.”

 

“We understand.”

 

Their CA holds his gaze for a few more moments before nodding and going back down the hall.  He waits until she’s in her room before he turns back into his.  Tony’s at his desk, rifling through his drug drawer.  “Tony,” he says softly, “Listen, I’m sorry, I—”

 

“I don’t want your fucking apology,” Tony spits, turning toward him, ignoring his search, “I don’t want anything from you but for you to man up and admit that you want me.”

  
“I do,” Steve says, and Tony shakes his head.

 

“What are you going to do about it?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“That’s exactly the fucking problem.”  Tony grabs his laptop and brings it to his bed.  “Shut your fucking whore mouth,” he snaps when Steve tries to talk, and so Steve just sighs and starts picking up the room.

 

——

 

They’re not even close to being done.

 

Later that night, Tony looks up, and Steve’s very existence infuriates him, so he reaches for the nearest object—a book—and winds up, letting it sail.  It pings off Steve’s head, who shouts in pain, reaching up to rub at his head as he whips around, glaring at Tony.

 

“You know what, _fuck you_!” Steve explodes.

 

“Yes, fuck _me_!” Tony shouts back, throwing his tablet to the side, “Just come to terms with the fact that you want to!”

 

“Not every fucking person wants to get in your pants, asshole!” Steve yells, turning back toward his laptop, but then Tony reaches for another book and throws it.  Steve shouts again, grabs the book, and hurtles it back.  Tony doesn’t manage to duck it, and it clips his face, so then he’s pushing off the bed and coming across the room full tilt.  Steve casually stands and throws a well-aimed punch, striking Tony’s bad shoulder.  He yelps, twisting away, hand coming up to cradle his shoulder.

 

“Ass _hole_ ,” Tony groans, and Steve takes advantage of him being turned, punching the other side.  Tony cries out, jumping away from him.  “What the _fuck_ is your problem?” he shouts, turning and glaring at Steve.

 

“You are my fucking problem!” Steve yells, coming forward and shoving him, hard, hands bouncing off his chest so Tony hits the wall.  “I am sick of your bullshit pity me parade!”

  
“I never fucking asked for you to pity me!” Tony yells, and he hates how much taller Steve is, how he can loom over him, “I asked the exact opposite!  I don’t want your help, and I certainly don’t want your fucking pity!  I just want—”

 

“Me, I get it!”  Steve cages him in, hands coming up to settle on either side of Tony’s head.  He leans forward, and Tony flinches, turning his head away.  Steve blinks—that wasn’t the reaction he’d expected.  He keeps going, though, not letting it deter him, “I tried so hard to stop this.  I tried so hard to figure things out before shit hit the fan, and you wouldn’t back off.  You—”

 

“Steve,” Tony gasps, and that’s when he notices he’s trembling lightly.

 

“Tony?”

 

“Please get away from me.”

 

“I—”

 

“ _Steve_.”

 

Steve backs off, putting distance between them.  When Tony looks back at him, his face is open and terrified.  Steve shakes his head as he understands, “Maybe this shit wouldn’t happen if you would stop letting people take advantage of you.”

 

Tony roars back to life, eyes getting dark as he sneers, “Oh, _I’m_ at fault now?  This is _my_ fault?  Do you know who you sound like?”  Steve just stares at him.  Tony pushes away from the wall.  “You sound like every fucking person that has ever held me down and fucked me against my will.  You sound like every single fucking person that has ever told me that I asked for it, that it was my fucking fault this was happening, that I shouldn’t be such a slut if I didn’t want to be abused.  Do you know _why_ people think I sleep around a lot?  Because this shit started in high school with people slipping things into my drinks and _raping_ me, and, for some sick, twisted reason, the only viable option I saw was to become exactly what they thought I was because then maybe I’d actually be awake for once.  I don’t even _remember_ losing my virginity!”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, shocked.

 

“Don’t.  Don’t fucking look at me like that.  That’s how my mother looks at me, like I’m some lost little boy she needs to fix.  I don’t _want_ to be fixed, I don’t _need_ to be fixed, my father does a very good job of that already, I don’t need a fucking savior.  I just—I wanted _you_.  I wanted to be with you, and I’d never had something like that before, and I don’t know how to do this, I’ve never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before, how could you even expect me to know what the proper steps are or whatever?  I tried my fucking hardest to do this right, and you made it so difficult.  This is _your_ fault.  You can’t just—you can’t do this to me, Steve.  You can’t be just another guy I screwed up.”

 

Betty knocks, opening the door slowly.

 

Steve shakes his head.  “Why do you see it like that?” he says, “Why do you think you screwed me up?  I’m still figuring this shit out, and you’re the one who’s complicating it.”

 

“ _I’m_ complicating it?” Tony yells.

 

“Guys,” Betty says, stepping in, Bruce behind her.

 

“You let me get us _both_ off over break!  You let me climb on fucking top of you!  _You_ let it all happen!  _You_ are the reason we were coming in our pants like fucking teenagers!  It is _your_ fault that that shit happened after sparring!  You can’t keep giving me green lights, and then saying fuck all!  You can’t keep fucking _kissing me_ , why do you keep fucking kissing me?”

 

“Because I wanted to!” Steve shouts, stepping forward again, “I have wanted to kiss you since the first fucking week, when you fell asleep in my bed, and you just—” Steve’s voice cracks and gets a little softer, “—you just looked so soft and so quiet, and I didn’t realize what was happening, but I wanted to be near you, I wanted to be able to touch you whenever you were around, I wanted to just—I wanted _you_ , Tony.”

 

“Maybe you should have fucking said that, then,” Tony mutters before he turns out, slipping around Betty and Bruce, and Bruce closes a hand over Tony’s wrist, dropping the key to their room in his palm.  Tony almost breaks, but then Bruce squeezes his wrist, and he continues out, stalking down the hall.

 

——

 

Tony stays in Betty and Bruce’s room that night.  They curl up on either side of him, and though they each sleep, and though Tony tries desperately to fall asleep, he ends up watching the sunrise.  Tony goes back to his room after they’ve woken up, gets his things for the day, and then leaves again.  He doesn’t speak to Steve, and Steve doesn’t try to speak to him.  It’s not until later that night, when Tony finally comes in from class, that Steve says over his shoulder, “Did you take your meds today?”

 

“No, and I don’t need you to fucking babysit me,” Tony grumbles, dumping into his chair at his desk.

 

“Okay, you know what,” Steve says, turning, “I babysit you because you either don’t take them at all and end up seizing, or you take too fucking many.”

 

“Don’t patronize me,” Tony mutters, not looking at him.  He doesn’t want to do this right now.  His chest has been hurting since he left for class this morning, and he feels like someone has been hammering on his sternum with a mallet all day.

 

“I am not trying to patronize you, Tony,” Steve sighs, “I’m trying to look out for you.”

 

Tony finally turns, looking at him.  “Listen to me very closely.  I do _not_ need your help.”

 

He starts to turn back around when Steve throws an eraser at him.  “No,” Tony says, chucking the eraser back at him, “Don’t fucking apologize.”

 

“Oh my god, would you just give up?” Steve sighs, “I’m so fucking tired, Tony.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“Steve, I do not give a shit about you, stop fucking talking to me.”

 

“Is this what it’s going to be like next semester?  Are you just going to ignore me every day and pretend that—that you didn’t fucking watch someone give me a blowjob and then jerk yourself off?  Because holy shit, dude, that’s not what friends do.”

 

“You let it happen,” Tony says calmly.

 

“Because I’m fucking _into you_!” Steve yells, throwing the eraser at him again, “You need to give me time, though, man!  I can’t just jump into this!”

  
“Like you jumped into it with Sharon?” Tony shouts back, reaching for a book and letting it spin through the air.

 

“Stop fucking throwing things at me!” Steve flips, hurling the book back at Tony before he’s on his feet.  “God, you’re such a fucking _child_!”

 

“Oh, don’t stop there!” Tony says, getting to his feet, “Please, continue!  This is my favorite part!”

 

“You are so out of control!” Steve says, pacing away from him, “You are so _enormously_ fucked up!”

 

“Keep going,” Tony goads him, stepping in, and he can’t stop the grin that starts to turn up the corner of his mouth, something that he’s sure looks a little demented.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Tony, if you’re not getting drunk, you’re getting high, or you’re abusing prescription pills, or you’re fucking taking drugs, and it’s _your_ fucking fault that all this shit keeps happening to you!  If you just paid attention, if you didn’t get so lost in your own fucking brain, you might actually be able to stop everything from happening!  You need to take responsibility for your actions instead of playing the victim all the time,” Steve says, his voice dropping out of a yell, “You need to actually take control of your fucking life.  You’re like a natural disaster, Tony.  You need to stop.”

 

“Are you done?” Tony asks after a moment of silence.  When Steve doesn’t respond, he says, “Thank you for saying everything my father never had the guts to.”

 

“Of course,” Steve says, laughing hollowly and looking away, “Of course it’s your father’s fault.  It’s _always_ his fault, isn’t it, Tony?  Blame all of your demented problems on him because that’s what you do best.”

 

There’s a knock on the door as Tony nods.  “I’m glad you were able to finally get that off your chest.  I’m sure it’s been very—” Tony breaks off as he opens the door.  His heart is beating too fast when he sees his father standing there in the doorway, and he finds he can’t quite catch his breath.

 

“Anthony,” Howard says.

 

“Father, what are you—”

 

“May I come in?”

 

Tony nods quickly, stepping back and opening the door wider.  Howard steps in, Obadiah Stane following him in.  Tony shuts the door and looks over at Steve before turning toward his father.  “Father, I—”

 

Howard’s hand whistles through the air, and Tony thuds against the wall, his head whipping around.  “Tony!” Steve exclaims, stepping forward, but Obadiah lifts an arm, shaking his head.

 

Tony stays there, not lifting a hand to his throbbing cheek, though he thinks he can feel blood trickling down from Howard’s ring.  He tries to mask the way his breaths are coming in too fast, tries to stamp the searing pain in his chest away to deal with it later.  “I have _never_ been so embarrassed of you in my life!” Howard roars.  He steps forward, and Tony’s jaw tightens as he withholds a wince, knowing it will only be worse if he shows weakness.  “Look at me when I speak,” Howard snaps, reaching forward and grabbing his jaw, jerking his head back around.  “This school that plays at university phoned to tell me that you had been kicked out of one of your classes for _fist fighting_ with another student.  To think that you would even _consider_ shaming the Stark name is—”

 

“Dad, no, it was—”

 

Howard’s hand slides down so fast, Steve barely sees it, closing around Tony’s throat as he leans in close, spitting as he says, “I allowed you to go to this _liberal_ school, I will take you out.  I will not tolerate this kind of rebellion from you.  When I speak to you, you _listen_ , and you do not interrupt me.  You do not disagree with me.  I am your _father_ , and you will respect me.”  When Tony doesn’t answer, Howard shakes him, Tony’s head bouncing off the wall.  He squeezes his eyes shut against the pain as stars burst in his eyes.  “Do you understand me?” Howard seethes.

 

“Yes, sir,” he chokes out.

 

“Howard,” Obadiah says, checking his watch.

 

Howard holds his glare as Tony stares back at him, and he can’t do this, he can’t hold it in, he feels like someone is reaching in and pulling apart his ribs, tearing into him.  “Dad, please,” he gasps, one of his hands coming up to curl around Howard’s wrist, trying to pull him away, the other fisting in his shirt, nails scraping against his chest.

 

Howard looks down, seeing Tony’s hand against his chest, and then he rolls his eyes, looking back up.  “You expect me to believe that?” he says, “You’re pathetic, Anthony.  To think that you bear _my_ name.”  He releases him, and Tony goes down unbidden, even though he knows he’ll regret it.  He coughs violently, his body heaving, and he can’t catch his breath, and Steve hears it.  He knows he hears it because his foot shushes across the floor, and Tony holds up a shaking hand, stopping him.  His breaths keeping hitching higher and higher as he curls forward, forehead pressing against his knees.  “Stand up,” Howard says, and he sounds _bored_.  Tony doesn’t move, and he can’t stop the tremors now, can’t stop the surging urge to vomit, can’t stop the tears that run freely down his cheeks, can’t stop waiting for it to be over.  “I said _stand up_ ,” Howard snaps, and his foot moves.

 

“Howard,” Obadiah says, “We’ll be late for the conference.”

 

Howard pauses a moment longer before he straightens his tie and jacket, says, “I’ll see you on Friday,” and leaves without another word.

 

As soon as he’s gone, Tony rolls back up onto his knees and throws up, one of his hands coming down to hold himself up, but it’s shaking, and his vision goes black for a second before he’s swaying back, and he can’t even speak.  He reaches out for Steve, who is already rifling through his drug drawer, but Tony whines, thin and high.  “I’m going, I’m going, hold on,” Steve says, and then he finally finds the diuretics.  He runs over, dropping down next to Tony, who shakes his head, wheezing.  “Tony, I don’t know what to do.”

 

Tony flaps a hand up near his ear, trying to form the sign for phone, but his hand is shaking so bad, he barely manages it.  “My mom,” Steve says, understanding, and he runs to get his phone, dialing her.  “Come on, pick up,” he mutters, pacing as Tony folds back over.  It’s never been this bad before, never hurt so much he couldn’t control his body, couldn’t even find enough strength to swallow his pills, but his throat is so tight, and his tongue feels swollen, he doesn’t know how he _would_.

 

“Steve?” Sara answers.

 

“Mom, thank god.”

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

“Something’s wrong with Tony, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

 

“Can he talk?”

 

Tony slaps the floor, and Steve looks over.  “No, but—but I think he’s—hold on.”  Steve comes over to him, and Tony pushes against the floor.  His breathing is so loud, it hurts his ears, burns his throat.  “What?” Steve says, leaning close.

 

He tries to tilt toward the phone, tries to let Sara know, and then, “Steve, he’s having an asthma attack,” Sara says, “Get his inhaler.  When was the last time he took the diuretics?”

 

“Saturday, probably,” Steve says, running back over to his desk and rummaging through.

 

“After he can breathe again, give him those, and then he should have—”

 

“Sedatives, got them,” Steve says even as he slides the inhaler across the floor and then turns back to the drawer.

 

“No, but yes.  Is that what he calls them?”

 

“Yeah, he said it’s for when it’s bad.”

 

“Sure, we’ll go with that for now.  Do you see an EpiPen anywhere?”

 

“Isn’t that adrenaline?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony croaks, and Steve looks back to find him scooted away from the pool of sick, leaning against the wall, his head tipped back.

 

Steve takes it all and hurries back over.  “Mom,” he says.

 

“Okay, EpiPen first, and then pills.  Tony.”  Steve holds out the phone so Tony can hear, “Can you show Steve where to apply the EpiPen?”

 

Tony makes a loose fist, and then jabs it against his thigh, pushing down his thumb.  He looks at Steve, who nods before putting his phone on speaker and putting it on the floor before uncapping the EpiPen, closing his fist around it, and then swallowing.  Tony reaches out, recognizing his uncertainty, and Steve lets him tangle their fingers together before he brings the EpiPen around, takes a steadying breath, and presses it against Tony’s thigh, depressing the needle.  Tony groans, head thudding back against the wall.

 

“Steve,” Sara says, and he pulls the EpiPen away, “It’s going to get bad now.”

 

“What?” Steve says, panicking as he looks over at his phone.

 

“He’s going to—”

 

“Holy _fuck_!” Tony roars, coming up off the wall, “Jesus _shit_ , I’m gonna—” and he twists to the side, puking.  Steve jumps in surprise, and then sits back on his heels, waiting.  When Tony finally slumps back against the wall, his shoulders are bouncing off it a little, he’s shaking so bad.  He tries to lift his hand, but he’s so tired, it just hits the ground again.  Steve leans forward, pulling his sweatshirt over his hand and wiping Tony’s mouth.  Steve starts to uncap one of the pill bottles when Tony lifts his fingers, trying to lift his whole hand.  “Wait,” he mumbles, and Steve frowns.

 

“Mom?” he says.

 

“Wait,” she says.

 

A full minute ticks by before Tony groans, nodding.  “Okay, I’ve got nothing left, apparently.”

 

“Tony,” Sara says softly, “One at a time, sweetie.  Don’t rush.”

 

Tony nods, flipping his hand over, but Steve shakes his head.  “Open your mouth,” he says.  Tony opens his mouth, and Steve sets the pill on his tongue, waiting for Tony to swallow before he gives him the second diuretic, and then the sedative.

 

“Inhaler,” Tony mumbles, hand slapping against the ground.

 

Steve brings it up and over, shaking it before he puts it against Tony’s mouth and depresses it.  “Okay, we’re done with the pills,” Steve says aloud, “Anything else?”

 

“He’s probably going to pass out in a few minutes.  Can you carry him?”

 

“Yeah, hold on.  Come on,” he adds to Tony, shifting until he can reach him easily, and then he gathers him in his arms and slowly stands.  He brings Tony over to his bed, lays him down, and then says, “I’m going to go find the janitor,” before he goes back for his phone and then leaves.  “Hey,” he says, and his mom sighs.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

“Well, I demand a freaking explanation.  That boy—”

 

“It was my fault, mom.”

 

“What?”

 

Steve sighs, “Hold on.  I have to ask the janitor to clean up our floor.”

 

After that’s all said and done, and after he gets a reaming out for cleanliness, he sits on the edge of his bed, Tony asleep behind him, and says, “I screwed up big time, mom, and we’ve kind of been fighting for the past couple days, and then his dad showed up because we got kicked out of class—”

 

“I heard.  We’ll get to that later.”

 

“Well, we got kicked out, and his dad showed up, and he—mom, he _hit_ him, in front of me, and then he—he—god, he choked him out against the wall, and I think he started having heart problems while his dad was here, and it just got worse and worse until, finally, his dad left, and then I called you.”

 

“That’s about four days since he last took his medication?  And then with all that added stress?  It makes sense, I guess.”

 

“So, is he asthmatic?”

 

“Not necessarily.  There’s something called environmental asthma, which is a lot more complicated than it sounds, but I’m assuming that’s what he was diagnosed with not long into his childhood, and that’s why he has an inhaler, not because of his heart, though that might be a trigger.  How is he?”

 

“He’s asleep,” Steve says, looking over his shoulder at Tony, who isn’t breathing quite right, but it’s better, and though he looks a little distraught, he’s asleep, at the very least.

 

“Do you want to talk?” Sara asks.

 

“Yes,” Steve sighs, and he tells her everything.

 

——

 

They talk, but it’s not really talking, and so Steve doesn’t feel like anything is really said between them in the last few days before Friday is arriving, and Tony is disappearing after they get out of gym.  His mom is there a half hour after Steve gets back to his room, and he packs his things away in the car, lingering in his room because he wants to say goodbye to Tony, but he’s not sure where he is.  He starts to text him, stops, stares around the room, and then decides enough is enough.

 

He heads out, and, of course, there he is, coming across the cross walk.  Luke is following him, trying to talk to him, though Tony’s mostly ignoring him, and Steve frowns as he comes down the front steps.  Tony looks up, rolling his eyes, and he almost stops when he sees Steve, but he keeps going, his strides lengthening until he’s slowing, stopping before Steve.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Shut _up_ , Luke,” he groans, glancing at him, “God, if I’d known you were going to bitch so much, I wouldn’t have agreed to talk to you.  Go away, I’m busy.”

 

Luke does as he’s told, skulking past them and going up the stairs to wait by the door for Tony.  “Really?” Steve says, and Tony sighs.

 

“Let’s not fight right before you leave,” he says, and Steve nods.  “I’ll call you?”

 

“I’d like that,” Steve says, “We can facetime and do yoga again.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, smiling, “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

 

“I should go,” Steve says after a moment, “My mom is waiting.”

 

“Give her my love,” Tony says, starting to step around Steve, “And your sisters, of course.”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, reaching out, fingers curling around his wrist.  Tony looks down, and then up, trying not to look too hopeful.  “Come here,” Steve mumbles, pulling at his wrist, and Tony steps in, allowing Steve to hug him.  He winds his arms around him as Tony does the same, and Tony presses his face against Steve’s shoulder, knowing this might be the last time he’ll be able to do this.  Steve breathes him in, one hand running along his spine, and Tony smiles, relaxing a little.

 

“Be safe,” Steve whispers.

 

“Be _happy_ ,” Tony says in response, and then he’s pulling back, offering Steve a small smile, and leaving before he can say anything else.  “Fuck off, okay?” he grumbles when he reaches Luke, “I already regret this.”

 

“You won’t,” Luke says, sliding close, and Tony grins as Steve frowns.

 

He waits until they’re inside, and then he goes over to his mom’s car, sliding into the passenger seat.  “Everything okay?” she asks, nodding toward where Tony’s disappeared.

 

Steve sighs, following her gaze.  “I don’t know,” he says, and he knows he needs to figure that out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit, I may have cried a little while writing this chapter. I’m very emotional, though, so I cry a lot because why not? It’s a good release. I’m so not ready to write Maria’s death, _that_ is going to kill me. Let’s not talk about that, though, because I don’t ever want to write it. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	15. Chapter 15

Howard picks Tony up from school for winter break, and they don’t speak the entire drive home.  When they do arrive at the mansion, Howard puts the car in park and turns, but Tony’s already out the door and grabbing his things from the back.  Howard watches him walk as quickly from the car as he can, and he can’t seem to stop the frown that pulls his mouth down.  When he comes inside, one of the maids is taking Tony’s bags upstairs even as a door closing echoes softly through the foyer.  Howard sighs—he’s in Maria’s studio already, and the car ride will likely be the last time he sees him other than meals.

 

Tony sneaks into the studio, and though he lets the door close audibly, Maria only says, “Thank you, Angela.  A pot of tea, if you wouldn’t mind.  Tony’s on his way home.”

 

Tony smiles, coming forward.  Maria is wearing a loose, dark green shirt that hangs down around her mid-thighs, with tight, black pants underneath, her feet tucked up underneath her where she’s sitting on her stool.  Her dark hair is tied back in its typical messy bun, pencils and paintbrushes sticking out everywhere, and she’s currently tapping a paintbrush against her chin, apparently having forgotten that there’s blue paint on it.

 

Tony tries to come around so he can see what she’s working on, but then the door opens again, and Maria looks up.  “Angela,” she says, and then her gaze shifts to Tony, “ _Tony_!”  Her paintbrush clatters to the ground as she hurries off her stool, crossing the room in quick strides as he straightens, beaming.

 

“Mom,” he says when she crushes him to her, and he closes his eyes, winding his arms around her and holding her tightly.  He breathes her in as she squeezes him, laughing softly.

 

“Oh darling, I thought you would be back later,” she says softly, one of her hands coming up to cradle his head as she leans back and presses a kiss to his forehead.  “It’s so lovely to see you.  I’ve missed you so much,” she says, smiling widely.

 

“I missed you, too, mom,” he says before he’s stepping back toward her, burrowing against her a little.

 

He just wants to stay here, trapped in her arms, but then Angela is collecting Maria’s things from lunch, and she steps back, one arm still curled around him as she says, “A pot of tea, please, so my son and I can catch up.”  She turns back to him, tapping him on the nose, and Tony just laughs and scrunches up his face.

 

They spend the rest of the evening in there, curled up on the futon talking, filling each other in on their lives until Angela’s coming to get them for dinner, and Maria sighs, leaning forward and kissing Tony’s cheek.  “How was the drive?” she asks as she puts away her mug and motions for him to follow her.

 

“Quiet,” Tony says, skipping forward a few steps so he’s next to her and reaching out so he can twine their fingers together.  He doesn’t tell her about the visit, though he longs to.  “How was he when you came back from Thanksgiving with Aunt Rosalie?”

 

“Quiet,” Maria repeats, frowning, “It was strange.  Almost as if—as if he hadn’t been bothered by it.  I wonder, sometimes, if he realizes what he’s doing and tries to reign it in.”  Tony just shrugs.  He’s heard this speech half a dozen times, and he doesn’t want to encourage it.

 

When they arrive in the dining room, Howard is already at the head of the table, a few fingers of whiskey in his hand.  “Great,” Tony mutters, but Maria just squeezes his hand before she lets it go, taking the other side of the table.

 

“I see you’ve been painting,” Howard says when Maria sits, and she starts to bristle when he continues, “What of?”

 

Maria looks over at Tony, who is stalled halfway to his seat, bewildered by the conversation.  Her eyes flick down to his seat before she turns back to Howard, smiling.  “A surprise for my son,” she says, “Wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

 

Howard sighs, leaning forward, and Tony tenses.  “You’ve got blue on your chin,” he says softly, thumbing it away.  When he straightens again, he offers her a small smile, “Maybe you could show me after dinner?”

 

“If you wish,” Maria says, and then, when one of their cooks starts laying out the food, “Thank you, Laura.”

 

They begin to eat in silence until Howard puts down his whiskey and asks, “How were your finals, Anthony?”

 

“Fine,” Tony says, nodding mostly to himself, “My classes weren’t extraordinarily difficult this semester, unfortunately, though definitely still a necessary step in completing my major.”

 

“As long as they’re helping,” Howard says, nodding, and Tony looks up at him.

 

“Really?” he says, a little wide-eyed.

 

“Of course,” Howard says, “Do you have any idea what you’ll be taking next semester?”

 

“Uh—I, uh—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 

“It’s fine, go on,” Howard cuts him off.

 

“Yes, sir,” Tony says, looking away from him, “We chose our courses for next semester in November.  It’s actually quite similar to this semester.  I’ll be taking Italian III, two advanced courses in mechanical and electrical engineering, and advanced anatomy.”

 

“Six classes?” Maria asks, frowning, “Isn’t that a bit much?”

 

“I managed five easily enough this semester,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder.

 

“Can you carry on with Italian after the third level?” Howard asks.

 

“No, I’ll be moving to French next year.”

 

“Good,” Howard says, nodding appreciatively, “Are there any other languages you’re interested in?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, putting down his fork, “I don’t understand, I thought you were opposed to me taking more than was required.”

 

Howard sighs, putting down his utensils, as well.  “If it makes you happy, Anthony, I will support your interest.  It’s not a bad one to have, and it will help you in the future.  I thought you wanted to possibly pursue a minor in a language.”

 

“I—I do.  I was hoping to do a combined concentration in French and Italian.”

 

“Then you should.”  Howard holds his gaze for a few moments before returning to his dinner, “Will you need to travel overseas?”

 

“I’d thought I might take another course over the summer, as I did with Italian last summer,” Tony says, glancing over at Maria, who looks just as confused.

 

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Howard says, nodding, “It would certainly give you more time to focus on your majors while at school, but it will also allow you to focus on your minors primarily while you’re at the university.  Have you looked into any?”

 

“Yes, sir.  I’ve already applied to some.”

 

“Good,” Howard says, “Let me know if you are accepted to any.  How is your French?”

 

“Un peu rouillé, peut-être, mais bon, encore, je crois.  **(A little rusty, possibly, but good, still, I believe.)** ”

 

“Discordant plutôt que rouillé, je pense.  **(Discordant rather than rusty, I think.)** ”

 

“Oui, monsieur.”

 

“Excellent,” Howard says, and he actually smiles, “I can hire someone to come over break to refresh, if you’d like.”

 

“This break?”  Howard nods, and so Tony shrugs.  “Yeah, that would be great, actually.  If you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

 

“Anything for your education,” Howard says, and this is how dinner continues.  He’s pleasant to the point that Tony starts to forget, and he converses with him like he used to, when he was still little, open and agreeable.  Maria even joins in, and, by the time dinner is well over and they’re just sitting, talking, she’s smiling easily, and Tony feels a little looser than he usually does when he’s in his father’s presence.

 

As it gets later, though, Tony excuses himself because Maria’s smiling fondly at Howard, and he knows what that means, knows that she’s remembering just how much she loves him, despite it all, and he hates watching her fall again and again.

 

He goes upstairs, taking his time.  It’s weird being home again, after so long away, and he finds that he doesn’t really miss it.  He would much rather be in his dorm, where Steve is always within arm’s reach, and if he gets sick of him, he can just go down the hall to Betty and Bruce.  And so, when he reaches his room, he’s already digging out his phone and dialing Steve on facetime, humming to himself.

 

“ _Tony_!” a shrill, not-Steve voice screeches, and he grins, lifting the phone.

 

“Hey, Emmie bean,” he says, “How’s my favorite little queen?”

 

“Awesome sauce!” she shrieks, dancing a little so that the phone goes fuzzy.  Tony laughs, setting his phone down on his nightstand, leaning against a stack of books so she can see him as he moves about.  “Why didn’t you come home with Steve again this break, Tony?”

 

“Because it’s Christmastime, silly, and I had to go home to my mom.”

 

“And your dad?” Emma says, and Tony looks over, frowning.  Emma’s got this expression on like she knows everything in the world, and, when Tony opens his mouth to remind her that he hasn’t got a dad, she huffs and says, “Steve told me you were lying.  He told Riley and Leah, too.  He said that you were really, really mad at him, and that’s why you said it.  Is everything okay now, Tony?”

 

Tony sighs, nodding.  “Yeah, everything’s okay.  Is your brother around?”

 

“Yeah, hold on.  _Steve_!” she screeches, and Tony snorts, shaking his head.

 

He starts to change, tugging his shirt off and hunting around his things for his yoga clothes.  “Tony, why are you talking to my sister while naked?” Steve sighs.

 

“I had clothes on, I took them off for you,” Tony sings, and Steve just rolls his eyes.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“It’s yoga time, let’s go.”

 

Steve pauses, and then, “Yeah, okay.  Just let me get changed.”

 

“Oh wow, it’s that easy?” Tony teases, flashing Steve a grin.

 

They both get changed and unroll their mats, and then they’re stretching out, chatting lightly about their first day back at home.  Tony tells him about how polite his father is being and about how he almost finally saw what his mom’s been working on, and Steve tells him this crazy story his mom came home with and how Riley has been spending more and more time with her best friend, enough that Steve thinks something might be going on between them.  Tony just grins secretively and makes a note to call Riley after he’s finished with Steve.

 

When they’re finished stretching, Tony takes the lead and works them through their routine, which they haven’t done together in a while.  He introduces a new pose he’s been working on, and they spend a while laughing when Steve keeps toppling over.  After, they do a short session of stand practice, and then they’re just hanging out, sitting across from each other chatting until Sara starts yelling up the stairs.

 

“Hang on,” Steve says, pushing to his feet.  “What?” he calls when he opens his door.

 

“Emma forgot she needed to bring in a holiday book tomorrow for school.  Can you take her to the store?”

 

Steve looks back toward his phone, sighs, and then calls back, “Yeah, just give me a second to change.”  He goes back into his room, lifting his phone from the floor.  “I gotta go,” he says, “Emma needs to go to the bookstore, apparently.  I’ll talk to you later?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Tony says, smiling, “Have fun, shoulders.”

 

“Goodbye, Tony,” Steve says, shaking his head, and he hangs up grinning.  He takes a quick shower, changes into a pair of fitted jeans, a sweatshirt, and a jacket before he heads downstairs, toes his shoes on as he’s yelling for Emma, and is just tugging on a beanie when Emma comes skipping over to him.  He helps her get ready, and then he’s grabbing his mom’s keys before they head out.

 

Emma shrieks when he says she can ride in the passenger seat, and she starts bouncing around until he points a finger at her, and she settles, giggling.  She fiddles with the radio as he’s pulling out until Steve can’t stop laughing, and he tells her to pick a station or they’re not listening to anything, so she presses the CD button, groaning when one of Riley’s new bands comes on.  Steve sighs and fiddles around until he finds some soft rock, and Emma settles, humming softly to herself.

 

When they get to the bookstore, Steve’s got her singing along to Led Zeppelin, though really she’s just yelling, and so he’s laughing loudly when he gets out of the car.  Emma begs him for a piggy back ride, so he kneels in front of her, mindful of the snow, and she hops on.

 

“So, why do you need a holiday book?” he asks as they’re trudging through the parking lot.

 

“My teacher said we’re going to celebrate all of the winter holidays before we go home for break,” Emma says, her voice muffled because she’s snuggled against Steve, “Mommy’s baking cookies for me, and Riley’s helping.  She said that she’s been looking up witchcraft stuff, so she’s celebrating something about the moon.”

 

“It’s not witchcraft,” Steve laughs, “Is that how she explained it?”

 

“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.”

 

“Silly bean,” Steve says, so Emma blows a raspberry near his ear, and Steve whines, pretending to drop her.  Emma shrieks, clinging to him.  “Quiet, we’re going in a bookstore,” he whispers as he opens the door.

 

“It’s not a _library_ ,” Emma says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

They make their way over to the children’s section, and then Steve kneels, letting Emma clamber off of him.  “Do you need help?” he asks.

 

“No, I got it,” she says, “Do you want to go look at something?”

 

“Yeah, I might,” he says, “Stay over here, I’ll come back in a little bit, okay?”

 

“Okay!” she sings before skipping off.

 

He’s halfway through the store when his phone buzzes, and he digs it out, smiling as he sees a text from Tony there, _Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeve, I miss youuuuuuuuuu_.

 

 _Are you high?_ he texts back.

 

When he looks up, he’s near the photography section, and so he shrugs, looking around.  _Getting there_ , Tony sends eventually, _it’s very high quality, apparently_.

 

_Didn’t mean to get high that fast?_

_Ooh hoo, not really, but this is badass.  My parents are screwing, and I almost walked in, so it’s kind of awesome._

Steve stares at his phone in bewilderment before shaking his head and typing, _don’t be stupid._

_I’m gonna be!_

 

Steve sighs and puts it away, busying himself with the various photography and art books until nearly twenty minutes have ticked by, and he makes his way back to the children’s section, frowning when he can’t find Emma right away.  He’s about to call out for her when he hears her giggle, and he follows it until he finds her sitting on a beanbag opposite an employee.

 

Steve pauses, smiling softly.  He’s incredibly handsome, with warm brown hair, a little bit ruffled like he just rolled out of bed, but not quite that messy, matching, smiling eyes, and just enough scruff that Steve wants to rub his fingers over his jaw.  He looks up suddenly, his laugh still in place as Emma giggles behind her hands.  “Is this your brother?” he whispers conspiratorially, leaning toward Emma but keeping his gaze fixed on Steve.

 

“Steve!” Emma exclaims, scrambling up and running over.  She grabs his hand, tugging him back until she’s pulling him down onto the beanbag and clambering onto his lap.  “This is Bucky, my new friend,” she says, “He was helping me pick out a book.”

 

“Hey,” Steve says, smiling over Emma’s shoulder.

 

“Hello yourself,” Bucky says, and his grin is a little crooked in a way that makes Steve blood stir.  He lingers there before flicking his gaze back to Emma as he says, “Figure out which one you want?”

 

“The one with the bear!” she says, bouncing, “Where did you put it?”

 

“Where it belongs, silly.  Go get it, I’m sure your brother wants to get back home before the storm hits.”

 

“Okay!”  Emma bounds off, running around the corner, and Steve stands, starting to follow her and then stopping.

 

“Thanks for helping her,” he says, and Bucky just shrugs.

 

“She’s cute,” he says, “I love when I get shifts over here.  Steve, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, taking his offered hand and shaking it, “Bucky?”

 

Bucky hums, his hand warm against Steve’s.  When he draws back, Steve finds his hand is cold.  “This might be forward,” Bucky says, “But I don’t usually meet many attractive men here, so I take my opportunities.  Could I persuade you to go out for tea sometime, get to know one another?”

 

“Um,” Steve says, a little baffled.  Emma comes barreling back around the corner, and Bucky steps back, allowing her to show off her new book to Steve.  He kneels, giving her his attention, and he laughs as she babbles on about it, though, when she takes a breath, he puts a finger to her lips and says, “You’re going to run out of oxygen that way, careful.”  Emma gasps.  “Exactly!  Let’s go buy it so we can head home, okay?”

 

“Race you there!” she exclaims, and then runs off again.

 

Steve straightens, looking to Bucky again.  “I’d like that,” he says, smiling.

 

“Good,” Bucky says, holding out his hand.  Steve lifts his, uncertain, and Bucky takes it, fingers curling smoothly around his wrist as he digs in his pocket with his other, pulling out a pen.  “Not allowed to carry my phone on the floor,” he says, clicking it, “So we’ll go old fashioned.”  He bows his head, scribbling across Steve’s palm, and then, when he straightens, he’s still holding onto Steve’s wrist, and he grins as he says, “I look forward to hearing from you,” before he’s gone, walking away and leaving Steve a little bit breathless.

 

——

 

When Tony finishes his first blunt, he rolls off his bed, giggling when he ends up on the floor.  He pulls himself upright after a while of lying there and staggers out of his room and down the hall, taking the stairs slowly.  Eventually, he reaches his father’s office, rummages around until he finds a bottle of expensive whiskey, and then he sneaks it back to his room.  Once there, he rolls another blunt, sorts through his meds until he finds the diuretics, pops two, and then curls up on his bed and drinks while he smokes.

 

Maria finds him like this a few hours later, the bottle of whiskey held loosely in his hand, the room stinking of marijuana, and his body contorted a little, knees bent toward the door but head turned toward the window.  His chest rises and falls slowly, and Maria sighs when she knocks, waits, and then opens the door slowly.  “Tony?” she says, and then she sees him.  “Oh, sweetheart,” she says, closing the door quietly and coming over.  She takes the bottle from his hand, capping it and setting it on the nightstand, checks that the bottle of diuretics is closed and not missing an alarming amount, and then goes into his bathroom to find an air freshener.

 

She opens the window first, and then sprays the room until it smells faintly like fresh linen.  When she sits on the bed, she lays a hand on Tony’s knee, shaking him lightly.  He doesn’t move, just continues to lie there, and Maria wonders what pushed him this time.

 

She’s found him in much worse states before—she tries, desperately, not to think of the time that she’d seen a red handprint smeared across the doorway to the bathroom, tries not to remember how she’d run, terrified, into the bathroom to find him collapsed on the floor, so far from her he could barely open his eyes, tries not to remember how she’d clutched at him and _screamed_ until, finally, someone came to help her beautiful, broken boy—but this is his more common one, and she hates that she can consider her nineteen-year-old son as an alcoholic, hates that she knows exactly where he got it from, hates that it’s been this way for so long.

 

“Tony,” she whispers, shaking his knee again, and this time, he stirs, letting out a soft noise as his lashes flutter over his cheeks.  She waits, watching him wake, as she strokes a thumb over his knee.  His jaw moves, tongue swiping over his teeth, and she’s sure he has cotton mouth, and then he’s opening his eyes and looking over at her blearily.

 

“Mom?” he asks, his voice heavy.

 

“Tony,” she sighs, staring down at him, “Why?”

 

He clears his throat, and then turns his head, groaning when it cracks, muscles aching from the twisted position.  He doesn’t answer her, instead shifts until he can get his feet on the ground, and she frowns when she watches him walk, sure and careful, no stagger to his drunken feet.  He goes over to his bags, dropping down to one knee, and she watches as the moonlight plays over his hunched figure.  Maria starts to straighten when she hears the shake of his inhaler, but he only depresses it once, and then he’s standing again, padding across the room to his bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.  Even still, she can hear him fumbling around—he starts to brush his teeth, pauses to vomit, and then finishes, pees, bangs around until he finds the pack of cigarettes he hides that she pretends not to know about—and when he comes back out, there’s an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth, one of his hands kneading over his neck.  He goes back to his bag, and Maria sighs when she hears the clink of pill bottles.

 

“Tony,” she says, but he ignores her.

 

Instead, he finds something for his headache, something to help him sleep and chase away the nightmares, and a lighter.  When Tony rejoins Maria on the bed, he crawls past her to the wall and lies down on his back, closing his eyes.  Sighing, Maria shifts until she can lie on her side, watching the burn at the end of his cigarette before he’s lifting a hand, taking it from his mouth as smoke curls out his nostrils.

 

“I’m sure that’s not good for yoga,” she comments softly.

 

“Already did yoga tonight,” he mumbles, offering the cigarette.

 

She doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to encourage it, but it’s something she’s always enjoyed after a night with Howard, and so she takes it from him, inhaling deeply.  She closes her eyes as she does, holding the smoke inside of her, and when she exhales, eyes opening, Tony is curled over her, reaching for the whiskey bottle.  “Tony.”

 

He still doesn’t respond, finally gets hold of the bottle, and drops back down onto the bed, pushing up on one elbow so he can take a long pull.  “What?” he says finally, not looking at her.

 

“Is this why it followed you to college?”

 

Tony remains quiet, just lying there, staring up at the ceiling.  “I don’t want to talk about that,” he says eventually, and Maria hates how his voice wavers.

 

“Tony,” she says, reaching out and taking the bottle from him before she snubs out the cigarette, dropping it in an ash tray.  She puts it back on the nightstand and then scoots closer until she can curl her arms around him, pulling her baby boy against her.  He’s trembling a little, shoulders jumping, and Maria just runs her hands over his back.  “This needs to stop,” she whispers against his hair, “You’re going to break apart, and I don’t know if we’ll be able to stitch you up again.  It was so bad last time, Tony,” her voice cracks, and Tony presses closer.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, trying to hide his tears under her chin, but she knows, she always knows, and she just holds him tightly, twining their legs together until he feels safe.

 

“I can’t lose you,” Maria says, rubbing circles in his back, “If I do, how am I supposed to go on?  How am I supposed to live without the only person in the world I truly love?  How can you expect me to be okay?  Baby, I—I’ll lose myself if I lose you.  Please stay with me.  Please don’t let him taint you until you can’t breathe anymore.  I need you to stay with me, to stay my Tony.  I need you right here, just as you are.”

 

“Mom, please,” Tony gasps, clinging to her, “Please stop.”

 

“Do me the same favor, then,” Maria says, and Tony shatters.

 

——

 

The first day of the girls’ winter break, Emma launches herself on top of Steve and starts yelling about sledding, and then Riley’s coming in, already geared up, so Steve sighs and gets up even though it’s balls early.  They spend most of the day out in the snow, sledding and falling and laughing, until their cheeks are rosy and Emma’s whining about being too cold, and so Steve packs them back up and takes them home.  After a quick shower, he drops onto his bed with his phone, smiling as he sees a text from Bucky there, _hey, you free this afternoon?_

_Yeah, what’d you have in mind?_ he quickly sends back, biting back his grin.  Steve first texted him a few nights ago, nervously pacing around his room until Bucky had answered, and though they’ve talked a little through texting, this will be the first time they actually see each other again.

 

_Tea and maybe a short walk before it’s get too dark?  I want to see you._

_Me too,_ Steve types, smiling, _Anywhere in particular?_

_Jaho in twenty, I’ll meet you there?_

_Okay, can’t wait._

Steve rolls over and hides his face in his pillow for a moment before jumping up and going over to his dresser to rummage around for something to wear.  He ends up in faded jeans, a bright blue thermal that Tony used to fawn over because it made his eyes so bright, a grey sweatshirt under his leather jacket, and Converse.  He keeps fiddling with his hair until it’s starting to look messy, and then he nervously fixes it until it’s neatly parted again.  When he comes downstairs, Sara is in the living room, curled up with a mug of tea, on the phone.

 

“Hey mom,” he says, popping in the doorway.

 

“How’s he doing today?” she asks as she looks over, holding up a finger.  She listens to the other line, her frown deepening, until, “Maria, one second, Steve’s begging my attention.  Yes?”

 

“Maria,” he repeats, stepping into the living room, “Is everything okay?”

 

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” she lies, and Steve starts to argue when she says, “Do you need something?”

 

Steve sighs and asks, “Can I borrow the car for a couple hours?”

 

“Sure, keys are in the bowl,” she says, turning away again, and Steve hears her say, “Maybe you should take him to see someone,” before he’s pulling open the front door.

 

He tries to shake Tony loose from his mind as he makes his way to Jaho, one of his favorite coffee shops, but he’s still stuck on his mom’s sad voice when he parks and heads inside.  Bucky is already there, leaning against the counter and chatting the barista up, though he quickly straightens when he sees Steve approaching, and Bucky turns, his grin wide.  “Steve, hey,” he says, pushing away from the counter, “What luck, the one and only Michael Barnes is working today.”

 

Steve quirks an eyebrow, and the barista rolls his eyes.  “Don’t scare him, asshole,” he says, smacking Bucky, “I’m his brother, unfortunately.  Nice to meet you.”

 

“You, as well,” Steve says, shaking hands with him.

 

They order, and then go find somewhere to sit, at a little table out of the way with plush chairs, and Bucky immediately leans forward, smiling.  “So, Steve, I know that you’re nineteen, and thus a freshman in college, if you go to school, but that’s about it.”

 

“I’m majoring in art at UMF, about an hour away.  Are you in school?”

 

“I am,” Bucky says, smiling at his brother as he brings over their tea, “Though not quite ordinarily.  I’m studying to hopefully be an officer in the army someday.”

 

“You’re—oh,” Steve says, blinking.  He hadn’t expected that, for some reason.

  
“Enlisted, yes,” Bucky says, “Though no active duty until I’ve graduated.  I’m a sophomore, currently.”

 

“My dad tried to get me to entertain that notion,” Steve says, “But—I dunno, I’ve always loved art.”

 

“Any medium in particular?”

 

“Charcoals, currently, though I may be expanding.  I’m taking a painting class next semester, and I’m really excited to learn.”

 

“You should paint me something sometime,” Bucky says, smiling, and this is how their date goes.  Bucky asks every question Steve can think of, and then he fires them all back until he feels like he’s known him for years, until he feels more comfortable with him than any other person in his life.  He thinks that, even if this is all just platonic, he’s found an amazing friend.

 

The afternoon starts to waste away until Bucky’s paying for their tea, ignoring Steve when he starts to argue, and then reaching out a hand.  “Come on, blondie, we’re going to watch the sunset.”

 

“Are we?” Steve teases, standing.  He looks down at Bucky’s hand and then takes a deep breath, stepping closer to him and taking his hand.  Bucky laces their fingers, thumb rubbing a small circle in the back of his hand, and, for a second, Steve thinks of Tony, and it’s like the mere thought of him burns through everything and reaches him because then his phone is buzzing.  “Sorry,” he murmurs as they go out into the cold.  He reaches into his pocket with his right hand, digging it out, and he frowns when he sees Tony’s picture there.

 

“Do you need to take that?” Bucky asks, and he looks over at him, at his small smile and his warm eyes, and he shakes his head, putting it away.

 

“No, not anymore,” he says, squeezing Bucky’s hand lightly, who just nods and tugs him along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, our first introduction to Bucky! I really do like him, so I hope you guys enjoy this part of Steve’s life, :) Also, if any of you haven’t seen _Snowpiercer_ , you absolutely need to. Erin and I watched it for a third time tonight, and I think it might honestly be my favorite movie Chris has ever done. The first time, it instantly skyrocketed to my top three— _Puncture_ and _Captain America_ , in each movie, are the other two, and _Puncture_ is such an incredible and disastrously sad movie, so definitely watch that, as well, if you haven’t—and, since then, it’s just climbed past the other two. It’s easily one of his best performances, and the film itself is beautiful and terrifying. I adore it.
> 
> Another thing—happy birthday, Erin! She is officially twenty-two today, and I got her this kickass shirt that says “HOORAY SPORTS DO THE THING WIN THE POINTS” on it. I’m very lucky to have her in my life. She’s one of my best friends, and I don’t know what I’d do without her. Half of my writing nowadays is inspired by her, and she’s one of the coolest and strangest muses I’ve ever encountered, but she’s my karmic buddy, and I think that’s pretty fantastic.
> 
> Anyway, I’m getting mushy now. We spent some time talking about Maria tonight, and I’ll let you guys in on that soon—I’m finalizing the thing that will happen later—but, for now, don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. Just a small warning, there’s a rather awful scene with Maria and Howard toward the end of this chapter. There’s some physical abuse on both sides and then an absolutely not at all explicit, implied sexual abuse. Like, barely a paragraph with non-descriptive words, blink and you miss it.

When Tony wakes the next day, the sun is low in the sky, and he feels trapped.  His mom has long since left, but there’s this pressure on his chest like someone is piling weights there, and he struggles to get upright, chest heaving as he tries to breathe.  His vision blurs as he gets to his feet, and his fingers bunch in his shirt as he staggers across the room, thuds into the nightstand as he grabs his pills and phone, and then somehow manages to make it into the bathroom before he’s puking, hunched over the toilet.

 

When he’s finished, he takes two pills, or maybe four, he can’t really see, crawls over to slump against the wall, and then lifts his phone, his hand shaking bad enough that he needs to hold it with two hands as he tries to find Steve’s contact.  He hits his head off the wall when he finally does, jaw clenched tightly as he squeezes his eyes shut.  He doesn’t know what this is, doesn’t know why it hurts so much, why he wants to scream and tear open his chest to let it breathe.

 

Steve doesn’t answer.

 

Tony whimpers, dropping the phone on the floor as it continues to ring.  “Steve, please,” he gasps, curling over until he’s on his side, pulling his knees up to his chest.  He presses his forehead against his knees, trying to focus on his breathing, trying to find his calm.

 

He still doesn’t answer.

 

His shoulder rattles against the floor when a violent tremor wracks through him, and Tony cries out, pressing the heel of his hand against his sternum, trying to push it away, trying to shove it down.

 

And then, Steve ignores the call, and the line cuts early.

 

“ _Mom_!” he screams.

 

——

 

They’re down at the wharf, on one of the docks, legs swishing out above the water, when Bucky scoots closer so that their sides are aligned.  He takes Steve’s hand out of his lap and tangles their fingers together, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles.  “Can I say something?” he says, looking over at Steve, who nods, holding his gaze.  “You strike me as confused.”  Steve starts to defend himself, but Bucky squeezes his hand, and he stops.  “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing,” he amends, “I just want to know what you want.  I don’t want to do anything that will scare you away.  I really like you, Steve, and I want this to go somewhere, but not until you’re ready.”

 

Steve holds his breath until he looks away, back out at the water, and then he lets it go.  “I’m not ready for something,” he says quietly, “I don’t—I don’t want to start something and then go back to school, away from you because—” he breaks off, looking back at Bucky, drenched in the warm, dark glow of the setting sun, and he wants nothing more than to kiss him.  “I like you, too,” he says finally, “A _lot_ , more than I intended, but I still don’t really know what’s going on in my head, and I don’t want to end up hurting you if this isn’t what I want.”

 

“I understand,” Bucky says, nodding, “I think you’re pretty close, though, from the sound of it.”

 

“Maybe,” Steve says, swallowing, “But I still think I’d like to take the semester to figure it out, to see—to see what happens.”

  
“I understand that, too,” Bucky says, laughing softly, “I like being single at school.  It’s fun.  It’s better, almost.  You don’t have to worry about what you might end up drunkenly doing at some party.  So, how about this?  In a few seconds, I’m going to kiss you.  After that, we’ll hang out some more this break, just let it be casual, and then we’ll both go back to school, we’ll see how things go, and, come summer, maybe we can give things a shot?”

 

Steve’s smile grows until his cheeks hurt, and then he nods.  “Yeah,” he says, ducking his eyes, “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

  
“Then come here.”

 

Steve lifts his gaze again, and Bucky just smiles and leans forward, leaves this bridge of space that Steve blinks at for half a second before he presses their mouths together, kissing Bucky.  It’s soft and careful, Bucky pliant and waiting beneath him, letting Steve take the lead, and he appreciates that more than he can express.  When they pull apart, Bucky is smiling, small and adorable, and Steve can’t help it, he needs to kiss him again, and Bucky lets out a soft laugh when they finally lean apart.

 

“I think that’s a good start,” he says, and Steve laughs.

 

“If you say so,” he says, so Bucky mocks offended, slumping against Steve, who darts an arm around him, and Bucky raises a fist slightly, making a triumphant noise that Steve makes fun of him for.  They sit like that, watching the sunset, until Bucky’s complaining about the cold, and then they leave the wharf together, holding hands as they make their way back to Jaho, and, as Steve starts to turn away from their quiet goodbye, Bucky tugs him back, leans up, and kisses him a last time before he gets into his car, and Steve watches him go, smiling widely.

 

——

 

Maria looks up as footsteps approach her, and she starts to rise when she recognizes Howard, and so she sinks back into the uncomfortable chair and sighs.  Howard sits next to her, taking her hand and pressing a warm cup into it.  “Thank you,” she whispers, curling her other hand around it before she leans over, resting her head against Howard’s shoulder.  He shifts so that she’s more comfortable, wrapping an arm around her.  “It’s been so long,” she murmurs after a while of silence.

 

“He’ll be okay,” Howard assures her, hand brushing over her side, “He’s always okay.”

 

“He’s not,” Maria says, straightening.  She doesn’t look at him when he turns to her, instead drinks the tea slowly.

 

“Maria—”

 

“It’s your fault,” she says, still not looking at him, “It’s always your fault.”

 

“Maria,” his voice is firmer now, but she just shakes her head.

 

“I should have stayed with him.  I should have waited until he woke up.”

 

“Stark,” a different voice says, and Maria looks up.  She stands immediately as the doctor approaches them, her hands trembling.  Howard takes the tea from her as he stands, as well.

 

“Is he okay?” Maria asks.

 

“He’s stable,” the doctor says, “If you’ll follow me, I can take you to him.”

 

“Thank you,” Maria says, nodding.

 

She and Howard follow the doctor away as he continues, “We’ve located an irregularity with his heartbeat that we’ve identified as a type of arrhythmia known as atrial fibrillation, which I know you were aware that he might develop because of his heart defect, but it’s easy to manage.  We’ll prescribe him anticoagulants, though we’ll need to do further testing while he’s home.”

 

“Of course,” Maria says, “Anything.  Can we see him?”

 

“He might be asleep,” the doctor says, stopping in front of a door and opening it.  He holds it open for them, closing it behind them.  Maria runs over, tears welling up in her eyes at the sight of her baby in a hospital bed, _again_ —she’s come to loathe the sight of hospitals, has nightmares of sitting by Tony’s bed, holding his hand, trying to count his heartbeats until, suddenly, there are no more.

 

She’s distracted enough that she almost misses it when the doctor says, “We also noticed his blood alcohol content was rather high, and—”

 

“That won’t be necessary to report,” Howard says, and Maria straightens, looking over at him.  He meets her gaze, and she nods.  That this is a dance between them now, that they’ve just learned how to communicate what is necessary to shield themselves from the outside world, makes her nauseous, but she swallows it down and lets her husband lead the doctor outside where he’ll persuade him to keep quiet.

 

She doesn’t care is the problem.  The only thing she cares about is lying before her, and so Maria pulls up a chair as close as she can, lifting Tony’s hand to kiss the back of it before she’s beginning a quiet vigil over him.

 

——

 

When Steve wakes up the next morning, he stretches languidly, rolls over, and blinks at his phone.  There’s a message from Bucky there, _good morning, handsome.  I had a really amazing time the other night.  I can’t wait to see you again_.  Steve beams, hiding in his pillow a little, and it’s a while before he gets out of bed, though he’s still smiling when he goes downstairs after his shower.  He’s halfway to the kitchen when he hears, “Did you take him to the hospital?”

 

Steve freezes, waiting, and his mom must think everyone is still asleep because she’s got Maria on speaker, and so he hears Maria say, “We called an ambulance.  Sara, I had no idea what was happening to him, it was _terrifying_.”

 

“Is he okay now?”

 

“Yeah, he’s undergone a series of tests, and they’ve identified the problem.  He has a heart arrhythmia—atrial fibrillation.  We have to take him back for more testing in a week, but he’s home now, sleeping upstairs.  It can still happen, too.  There are different classifications, and so there’s no telling what might happen in the next few weeks.”

 

“He’ll be okay, Maria, he just needs time to rest.  He—” but Steve doesn’t hear anymore because then he’s hurrying back upstairs.

 

He finds his phone, thumbs out of Bucky’s message, and calls Tony on facetime, waiting impatiently.  “Come on, Tony,” he mutters a second before Tony answers.  Steve straightens, holding the phone close, and, at first, all he sees is Tony’s nose before he shifts the phone, squishing it into his pillow so Steve can see all of his face.  He looks exhausted, the shadows beneath his eyes dark and deep, and his eyes are heavy, a cold kind of blue.  Steve can’t see all of his face because he’s lying down, but, all at once, he wants nothing more than to be there, to curl around Tony and hold him.

 

“Hi,” Tony mumbles, waving.  There’s a white band around his wrist, a hospital bracelet, and it makes Steve’s stomach roll.

 

“What happened?” Steve whispers, shifting until he can lie down, as well.

 

Tony lets out a hollow laugh that dissolves into a coughing fit, and he rolls away, curling in on himself as he chokes, gasping for air.  Steve waits it out until Tony’s just lying on his back, chest heaving as he comes back down.  When he finally does, he rolls over, and he’s trembling a little, and it makes Steve ache.

 

“Sorry,” Tony murmurs, “I’m supposed to be asleep.”

 

“What happened?” Steve asks again.

 

“I dunno, really.  I felt like I was having a heart attack, man, it was shit.  Turns out I’ve got a heart arrhythmia, which is awesome, and now I’ve got even more meds to take except my mom cleaned out my supply, so now I’ve got to wait for her to remember when I need them, or I have to explain to her why I need Xanax or even fucking aspirin, so that’s great.  I feel like I’m in an institution, and—” he breaks off as he starts coughing again, rolling away, and then he’s wheezing, and Steve can’t do anything but watch.

 

The fit fades away, but Tony’s still struggling to breathe, head tipping back, and Steve panics.  “Tony,” he says, starting to rise.

 

“I’m fine,” Tony says, though his chest is rising and falling too quickly, his breaths loud and angry, “I’m fine, it’s just— _Jesus_.”  He pushes upright suddenly, and Steve is plunged in darkness a moment before Tony returns with his inhaler.  Steve waits, watching Tony calm, and he’s still a little shaken when he turns back to Steve.

 

“Sorry,” he croaks.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Tony nods, turning his head away to yawn.  “Yeah, just exhausted.”

 

“Do you wanna go, then?”

 

“Can I ask you to stay?  I’ll probably fall asleep in a bit, but my mom is downstairs.  I miss you,” he adds, quieter.

 

All at once, Steve can’t help thinking of Tony’s phone call the other day, wondering if it had been this, and _Bucky_ , that text sitting there, waiting to be answered, and he wants to say no, wants to hang up and call Bucky as much as he wants to promise Tony he’ll stay until he falls asleep, stay until he feels safe, stay until this thing between them is okay.

 

“How’s break?” Tony asks, and Steve knows what he’s doing, knows he wants Steve to talk until he drifts off, and so he tells him about his sisters, about his parents, about everything but Bucky, and, by the time he’s finished, Tony’s blue eyes are closed, and he’s breathing slowly.  He lies with him a little while longer until there’s a knock on his door, and then he hangs up the call and sits up.

 

“Hey,” Sara says as she comes in, “I know you heard earlier.”

 

“Just hung up with Tony,” he says, shrugging, “He said he had a heart arrhythmia.”

 

“Yeah, I talked to Maria about it.  It’s not fatal, and he’ll be able to manage it, but he’ll need to go for further testing for the rest of the break, and, depending on which classification, he’s likely to have another attack, maybe multiple more.”

 

“Shit, mom,” Steve says, shaking his head and looking down at his phone.

 

“Hey,” Sara says, sitting next to him, “He’ll be okay.”

 

“Is he coming back next semester still?”

 

“Yeah, Maria thinks so.  He’s just tired now, which is understandable.  He’ll be bedridden for a little bit.  How was he when you talked to him?”

 

“Half asleep,” Steve admits, smiling, thinking of Tony, his heavy eyes and soft mouth, just drifting on the edge of wakefulness, “Had two coughing fits and had to use his inhaler once.”

 

“Yeah,” Sara sighs, “Maria said he’s been having trouble breathing.  That poor boy has gone through so much already this year.  Hey, speaking of, how are things with you and him?”

 

Steve doesn’t respond at first, instead pulls at his fingers for a bit before he sighs and says, “I can’t stop thinking about kissing him.  I want—I want to do it again, and again, and again, and I just want to—to _be_ with him, mom, but—but I met someone.”

 

“And?” Sara prompts, shifting so she’s cross legged on his bed, and Steve sighs, turning to face her.

 

“And I really like him,” he admits, “But I still don’t really know what’s going on with me, and I don’t want to rush things, but I think I—I, um—mom, I—” he breaks off, looking down.

 

“Steve,” Sara says, reaching forward and taking his hands, “It’s okay.  Take a deep breath.  What is it Tony always says to you?”  


“Find my calm,” he whispers, and then he nods to himself, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing.  It takes a few, long breaths, but then he feels okay, he feels centered, he feels _grounded_ , and he looks up.  “I think I might be gay,” he says, and Sara smiles.  “Well,” he says, frowning, “Not necessarily gay, but bisexual, maybe.  I like girls, I do, but—I like boys, too, I guess.”

 

“You guess?” Sara says, squeezing his hands lightly.

 

“Well, I thought—I dunno, Tony created this term, Tonysexual, and Bruce thinks he’s probably Tonysexual, so I thought maybe that’s just what it was.  Everyone always falls for him, and I thought that I just had, as well, but then I met Bucky, and we went on a date the other night, and we kissed, and it was _amazing_ , mom.  So—no, I’m sure.  I like men, as well as women.  I _am_ bisexual.”

 

“That’s okay,” Sara says.

 

“Really?”

 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Sara sighs, leaning forward and embracing him.  When she leans back, she drops a kiss on Steve’s forehead and then sits again.  “Now, try to talk your sister into telling me this, as well.”

  
“What?” Steve says, eyes widening, “Who?  Which one?”

 

“Riley,” Sara says, brow furrowing, “You didn’t know?  I thought Tony would have told you.”

 

“ _Tony_ knows?  _How_?”

 

“Riley told him, and Leah overheard, so she talked to Riley and then to me, and now I’m just waiting for Riley to tell us.”

 

“When the hell did this happen?”

 

“Watch your language,” Sara says, smacking him, “Over Thanksgiving break.  The first night they met, actually.  You know, Tonysexual is probably a thing.  I certainly wanted to adopt him after a few hours.  He’s adorable.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, rolling his eyes, “He’s fantastic.”

 

“Hey now,” Sara says, patting his knee, “Don’t give up on him just yet.  I understand that there’s a rift between you two that needs to heal, and I get why you’re drawn to Bucky, other than just because of who he is.  You want to experience and experiment, and that’s totally reasonable,” she says when he starts to argue, “But I think, also, that you and Tony have something that only comes around once in a while, and I think that, yes, you should take a break, you shouldn’t let anything happen this semester, but also, don’t push him away.  I don’t think your story is over just yet.  Be quiet,” she adds when Steve starts to talk again.  “I’m going to go make dinner, and you’re going to help Riley bake cookies later, and that’s just the end of it.”

 

Sara leaves before Steve can think of anything to say in response, and so he just sits there, trudging through it all and trying to figure out where it leaves him.

 

——

 

When Maria comes in around dinnertime, Tony is still sleeping, and she really can only see his hair poking out from underneath the mass of blankets.  She smiles, going over and lifting the blankets so she can slide under with him, reaching out for one of his hands, running the pads of her fingers over his fingers lightly.  “Tony,” she whispers, and he makes a soft noise, eyes moving under his lids.  “Sweetheart, you need to eat something.”

 

“No,” he says, and it’s barely comprehensible, more of a disagreeing grunt.

 

“Yes,” Maria says, laughing, “Come on, it’ll be good for you to get up and walk around.”

 

Tony peels open an eye, squinting at her.  “I thought I was supposed to stay in bed.”

 

“With intermittent periods of small activity,” she quotes, “I think I listened better than you.”

 

“I think I was probably unconscious.”

 

“Don’t be petulant,” she says, reaching up and tapping his nose.  Her fingers drift out, stroking over his cheek.  “After, you can come nap on my futon while I paint.  I need to finish your surprise.”

 

“When can I see it?” he asks, eyes closing as he stretches, knees straightening before he rolls onto his back, and Maria lifts the blankets away from his face.

 

“When it’s finished,” she says, and he starts to whine, so she continues, “Christmas.  It’s a present.”  Tony hums, giving her his best, tired smile.  She laughs, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead.  “Do you need help out of bed?” she asks.

 

“No, but I definitely need to throw up, probably,” he says, rolling over and pushing upright until he’s kneeling.

 

Maria gets out of the bed, crossing the room toward his dresser as she says, “Contradicting adverbs.”

 

“You—”

 

“Infinitesimal.”

 

“You know, Steve does this to me, and I’m starting to wonder if you told him that that works.  Infinitesimal,” he says, glaring at her back as she turns away from him, opening his closet, “Adjective.  Indefinitely or exceedingly small; minute; in maths, a variable having zero as a limit.  Origin—1645-1655, Neo-Latin.  _Rude_.”

 

“Go freshen up,” Maria says from inside the closet, so Tony grumbles as he gets off the bed, but then his stomach is rolling, and he hurries through the room, not bothering to close the door as he drops in front of the toilet.

 

After he’s finished vomiting and brushed his teeth, he comes back out into the room to find Maria on his laptop, poking through his yoga folder.  “Can you do all of these?” she asks when she hears his feet pad across the room to his bed, where she’s laid out a change of clothes.

 

“Most of them, yeah.”

 

“You’ll have to show me when you’re feeling better.  I recognize most of them, but there are a few new ones in here.  Tony,” she adds, spinning around to look at him, “We should do a study of yoga.”

 

“Yes!” he exclaims, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his sweats, “Mom, that would be amazing.”

 

“Oh, I could finally open the gallery, start putting things in, and there could be a whole section devoted to you.  Let’s do it,” she says, beaming.

 

“Let’s open the gallery first.  It’s just been sitting there for years now.  We should clean it up and get it ready.  Come on, I need to do something while I’m home.  It’ll be a project.  It’ll be fun.”

 

“Take care of yourself, then,” Maria says, standing and going past him into the bathroom.

 

Tony listens, rolling his eyes as she starts sorting through his medicine cabinet.  She comes back out with his cigarettes.  “I forgot to take these,” she says, sitting on his bed as he starts to pull on the jeans she picked out, and then makes a face and goes over to find his yoga pants.  He figures he shouldn’t wear the shorts to dinner, so these go down to his ankles, though they’re still as tight.

 

“So, you are the one that took everything?”

 

“Yes, be grateful.”

 

“Thank you, mom,” he says sarcastically, so Maria throws his shirt at him.

 

He catches it, hiding his smile as he changes out of his t-shirt into the thermal, which is a warm grey.  “Feet?” she asks, and he shakes his head.

 

“If I could be barefoot 98% of the time, I would,” he says, heading for the door.

 

Maria follows.  “And the other 2%?”

 

“Snow sucks with no shoes.”

 

“Tony,” she sighs.

 

“ _Mom_ ,” he mocks, so she tugs on his ear, he whines, and she smiles, reaching for his hand.

 

They go to dinner like this, chatting back and forth, until Maria’s lifting their hands to kiss the back of his and then going down to her side of the table, Tony taking the other.  “You’re out of bed,” Howard says when he sits, and Tony nods, offering him a small smile.  “How are you feeling?”

 

“Eh,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder, “Not great, but okay.  Thank you for asking.”

 

Laura brings out their food, which reminds Maria of Tony’s medication, and she excuses herself, following Laura back into the kitchen.

 

“Christmas is coming up,” Howard says, waiting for his wife to return before he starts eating, “Will you be home?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Tony says, “And you?”

 

“I plan to, yes,” Howard says, and Tony looks over at him in surprise.

 

“Really?”

 

“I’d like to spend the holiday with my family.  I know things have been—” he pauses, frowning, and Tony holds his breath as he waits.

 

“Dad,” he says softly.

 

“I know things haven’t been okay between us lately,” Howard says, lifting his gaze to Tony again, “But I’d like to try to remedy that.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, nodding eagerly, “Of course.”

 

Maria comes back, smiling as she sees them talking.  “Go on,” she says as Tony holds out a hand, turning to her, “I don’t mean to interrupt.”

 

“It was nothing,” Howard says as Maria drops the pills in Tony’s hand, “Just talking to my son.”

 

Tony smiles, nodding, and he glances at Howard before he’s reaching for his water, opening his hand.  He frowns, hand halfway to his glass.  “Mom,” he says, looking up at her.

 

“Take them,” she says as she sits.

 

“Why—” he clears his throat, looking back down.  He doesn’t understand.  “Why am I taking Abilify and Ritalin, as well?”

 

“While you’re home, you will be returning to your regular regimen,” Howard says, “I don’t pay for your therapy sessions because I enjoy having a mentally disturbed son, and I don’t see the sense in them diagnosing you if you refuse to take the medication they prescribe.  Perhaps we can clear up some of your— _issues_ while you’re home.”

 

Tony looks over at Maria, but she refuses to meet his gaze, and, when he looks at Howard, his father’s attention is on his whiskey.  “Dad—”

 

“We’ll speak no more on the subject.  If I have to, I will check to make sure you’ve swallowed them.  Take your pills, and eat.”

 

Tony stalls a second longer, and then looks back down at the arrangement of pills in his palm—there are six in total—and he wants to scream, but it’ll only make things worse, so instead he takes them in one go, meeting Howard’s surprised gaze with a hard one.  He wants to let him know that he’s done this plenty before, that he knows how to swallow multiple pills at once, that just because they found him bleeding out in the bathroom that time doesn’t mean it was the first time.

 

——

 

Tony takes a shower after dinner before he doesn’t feel like doing anything anymore, and then he goes down to Maria’s studio, and though he knows he can’t actually, he feels like he can feel his whole body slowing down, getting heavier until he’s dumping onto the futon and stretching out, pillowing his head with his arms.

 

Maria looks up and over, and she stops painting when she notices him.  “Tony?” she says, but he doesn’t respond, just lies there.  Maria sighs, putting away her brush before coming over.  She sits next to him, reaching up to card a hand through his hair.  “I’m sorry, baby,” she says softly, hand resting so she can stroke her thumb over his temple.

 

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, and his voice is flat.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Don’t stop painting just because I’m here.  I can leave, if you want.”

 

“No,” Maria says immediately before she leans down, pressing a kiss to his temple, “No, stay with me.”

  
“Okay.”

 

She doesn’t mean to, but Maria hates seeing him like this, hates the aching bruise circling her wrist that forced her to hand him everything.  She’s never believed half his diagnoses, hates that Howard thinks he’s this way because of some disorder, hates that he doesn’t believe that Tony just _is_ , that their son is amazingly intelligent because he works hard, a little bit manic and wild sometimes because he loves so much, addicted to everything because he lives to create, and so beautiful because he’s _theirs_ , their son, their child.

 

“Tony,” Maria whispers.  Tony slips out from under her touch, sitting up, away from her.  “Where are you going?” she asks when he starts to stand.

 

“I’m distracting you,” he says, getting to his feet slowly, “I’m going to go back upstairs and go to bed.”

 

“Tony,” she says, but he’s already walking away.  She watches him leave her, and only when the noise of the door echoes through the studio does she straighten, her feet silent against the ground as she hurries across the room.

 

Maria bangs out of her studio, crossing the foyer and passing the stairs that Tony is climbing, going down a hall until she reaches Howard’s office.  She throws open the door without knocking, and Howard looks up, frowning.  He continues to talk on the phone even as she storms across the room.  Howard turns, facing away from her, but then Maria reaches his desk and slams a hand down on the landline, hanging up the call.

 

Howard spins in his chair, staring at her in disbelief.  “I was—”

 

“It’s not important!” she screams, lifting the landline and throwing it as hard as she can.  It crashes against the wall, shattering apart.  Howard jerks to his feet, but Maria keeps going, “What you are doing to our son—”

 

“I am helping him!” Howard shouts, coming around the desk.  Maria steps away from it, facing him.  “I am doing what you cannot!”

 

“ _Helping_ him?  You are poison, Howard.  You ruin everything you touch, and you will _not_ take the only joy I have left from me.  He—”

 

Howard’s hand comes whistling around, backhanding Maria, and she swallows down her shout as his ring catches.  In one, fluid motion, she switches her wedding ring to her right hand and winds up, but Howard snatches her wrist out of the air, yanking it back in time for Maria to throw a sucker punch.  He doubles over, gasping, and Maria tugs her wrist loose, backhanding him while he’s distracted.

 

“He is _my_ son,” she seethes, stepping in close, “I will not let you turn him into a _robot_.  You know as well as I do that those pathetic diagnoses are just therapists trying to throw some cruelty into the powerful face of Howard Stark, trying to wring you dry, which they’ll never manage to _anyway_ , but the fact that you play at believing them is _absurd_!  He is _not_ bipolar, and I refuse to treat him as such when it turns him into someone I don’t recognize!”

 

“You don’t recognize him because he’s never been normal!  The only time I have ever recognized Anthony was when he was regularly medicated!”

 

“He doesn’t deserve this!” Maria screams, shoving Howard in the chest.

 

He grabs at her and spins her around, charging them across the room until he slams her into the wall, hand closing around her throat.  “What he deserves should not concern you,” he spits, “He deserves nothing but to succeed, and I will not have an heir who is publically out of control.  He is a disgrace to this family, and—” Howard cuts off as Maria’s knee comes swinging up, hitting him in the groin, and then she bends it in against her and sends it soaring back, hitting him in the chest so he stumbles back.  She darts away from the wall, chest heaving as she tries to regain her breath.

 

“I will not—”

 

“You will do whatever I say,” Howard says, turning, his voice tight with pain, “Or you will regret every word against me.”

 

Maria straightens, drawing in a slow breath.  She levels Howard with a cool glare.  “You can do whatever you want to me,” she says calmly, “But you will not hurt my son.”

 

“He is my son, as well,” Howard says, slowly coming across the room toward her.

 

“Maybe once,” she says, stepping back, “But you did not birth him, you did not raise him, you do not _love_ him.  You are his father only by right.  He is _my_ son.”  She stops as the backs of her knees reach the arm of one of the sofas, and though fear begins to leak through her, Maria holds her composure.

 

Howard loosens his tie, and Maria swallows tightly.  “Need I remind you of your place?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow, and Maria just lifts her chin higher.  He reaches her, and she holds her breath.  She thinks of Tony, of his brilliant smile earlier when they’d talked of the gallery, thinks of dressing in overalls to clean it out, thinks of letting him set up the lighting and install Jarvis, thinks of hanging up the paintings with him, thinks of taking him to her opening night, and the push and pull of the sofa hurts less when Howard presses her down against it.

 

——

 

When Howard has finally returned to his work, Maria go upstairs to shower, and then she dresses in something comfortable, takes the stairs to Tony’s floor, and goes quietly into his room.  He’s sleeping when she enters, and so she slips under the blankets and lets the soft shush of his breath lull her to sleep.

 

In the morning, Tony wakes before her, and she only stirs because he tugs on her shirt sleeve, hand slipping down to curl around her elbow.  She blinks her eyes open slowly, smiling when she sees him until she notices his expression.  “What’s wrong, love?”

 

“My chest hurts,” he whispers, and Maria moves like he does, darting forward to press a kiss to his forehead before she’s promising to be back and hurrying from the room.  She returns in a few minutes with his medication, and, by then, he’s lying on his back, hand pressed against his sternum, his breaths sharp in the silence.

 

She takes his inhaler from the nightstand, settles carefully next to him, and empties her armful in her lap.  “Just breathe,” she says, stretching her fingers before she reaches forward.  She called up one of her friends who works in physical therapy to ask after pressure-relief massages, and she sets to work kneading her fingers around Tony’s chest until his breaths are starting to get a little evener, and then she hands over his inhaler before returning.  Slowly, he calms until he’s reaching up a hand to curl around one of her wrists, stopping her.

 

“I’m okay,” he says, blue eyes flicking up to her brown ones, “I’m okay.”  He starts to relax when he notices her face, and he pushes upright, fingers curling around her jaw and turning her head.  “Mom,” he says when he sees her swollen cheek.

 

He releases her jaw, and she returns her gaze to him.  “I’m okay,” she echoes him, lifting her hands to cup around his face, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, lingering there.  “It’s still early,” she whispers, closing her eyes, “We’re going to leave for the gallery, and we’re going to spend every day there until it’s ready.  Pack a bag with some nice clothes—we’re going out for dinner tonight.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says before he leans forward, winding his arms around her, dropping his head to her shoulder and breathing her in.  They stay like that for a few moments before Maria sighs and pulls back.

 

“Quickly,” she says before she gets off the bed, and she starts to leave when she remembers the medication.  She starts to turn and then says, “I’m trusting you to be safe,” before she leaves, a spread of pill bottles lying on the bed.  Tony looks down at them, nods, and takes only what he needs to before he’s hurrying to dress for the day and pack a bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of spiderman tonight, here, have an early chapter! I am out of my mind excited to see it tonight, it’s going to be absolutely amazing. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to coherently put into words just how much I love Peter Parker and how well Andrew Garfield has captured him. I’m totally going to start writing another spideypool after I’ve seen the second one, too, so if any of you have been following that series or like spideypool, keep an eye out for it! In the meantime, don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! I don’t know why, but I associate [Sacrilege by Yeah Yeah Yeahs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_dw3TZNIGE) with Luke, and it was a really great song to listen to while I was writing the end bits of this chapter with him, so give it a listen, and fall in love with it because it’s my absolute favorite song by them.

A week passes.  Christmas is in three days when Steve decides to call Bucky.  They’ve talked a little here and there, but he wants to see him again, _wants to kiss him again_ , and so he thumbs over his contact and paces the room as he waits for him to answer.

 

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, “Steve.”

 

“Hey,” Steve says, grinning, and then, before he can stop it, “I miss you.”

 

“I want to see you, too,” Bucky says in return, “Can I?”

 

“Yes,” Steve says immediately, “Are you free tonight?”

 

“There’s supposed to be this movie out that everyone’s been raving about, if you wanna check it out.”

 

“Yeah, okay.  Uh—maybe we could get food beforehand?”

 

“That sounds excellent,” Bucky says, “Mind if I pick you up this time?”

 

“Not at all.  I’ll text you my address,” Steve says.

 

“See you at—seven?”

 

“Yeah, seven,” Steve says, and then they’re saying their goodbyes, and Steve feels like he might burst.

 

It takes _forever_ for seven to arrive, and so, around five, he facetimes Tony, his yoga mat unrolled, phone propped up on his nightstand as he changes into yoga clothes.  The call keeps ringing and ringing until it drops, and Steve looks over at his phone in surprise.  He tries him again, but he doesn’t answer again, and so Steve thumbs into his contact and sends him a message, _hey, tried calling for yoga, guess I missed you.  How is everything?_

By the time seven has come around, Tony still hasn’t answered, and then he’s not paying attention because someone’s knocking on the front door, and Steve runs over to his bed, clambering up onto it to look out the window, gaping as he sees Bucky’s car parked on the street, _off_.

 

He hurries to grab his jacket, pocket his wallet, and head out, but the door is already opening.  “Hello,” he hears his mom say, “May I help you?”

 

“Bucky,” he introduces, “I’m here to pick up Steve.”

 

“Bucky, yes,” Sara says warmly, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

“Oh no,” he teases, and Sara laughs.

 

“Good things.  Steve!  Oh,” she adds when he appears at the bottom of the stairs, “Apparently, your date is here.”

 

“ _Mom_ ,” he says tightly, and she just smiles and steps to the side.

 

“Hey,” she says, tugging him to a halt and leaning up to kiss his cheek, “Have a good night.  Don’t stay out too late.”

 

“Thanks,” he says, and then she’s shooing him off, and he follows Bucky out into the night.

 

——

 

Tony hums to himself as one of his hands drums on his thighs, the other holding the fridge door open.  He finally spots the berries, makes a triumphant noise, and then takes them out, carrying them over to the sink where he washes them and then brings them over to the island to start making a salad.  He cuts up the strawberries and grapes, leaves the blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries alone, and then frowns at the salad.  “Kiwi,” he says suddenly, turning back to the fridge.  He peels a few, cuts them up, and drops those in, as well, before putting everything away, pouring two glasses of water, and then bringing everything back out into the gallery.  The kitchen is sectioned off, and while not small, it’s nowhere near as big as the one at the mansion.

 

The gallery is coming along amazingly, and they should be done with most of the major details in a couple days.  They’ve been working nonstop all day, and sometimes well into the night, but Tony likes the hands on work, likes letting Maria direct him around, occasionally pausing to stretch out and roll into a pose of her choosing.  She’s set up a small area in the middle of the second floor—they finished everything on the first floor yesterday—and she’s been working almost manically, starting a new pose nearly every two days.  Tony knows that he gets his work ethic not only from his father, though, knows that once Maria starts hanging her work, the gallery will be fit to burst because all she does is work, work, work.

 

The first floor is incredible, and where most of her work will go, wide rooms opening to one another until Tony feels like he’s in a maze.  The second floor, however, she’s claimed will carry most of the work she’s dedicated to him over the years.  It’s as big, but more contained, and it’s been easier for Maria to call him back to pose for her up here.

 

At the moment, she’s sitting on the floor, stretching out in a seated forward bend.  She’s wearing a long, flowing red shirt, dark and dangerous, over little black shorts, her feet bare.  Tony’s in dirty jeans and a black, tight shirt, barefoot, as well, and only his hands are clean because he washed them, the rest of his skin dirtied by his work.

 

“My love,” she says, turning her head and smiling as he approaches.

 

Tony peeks at the piece—this one is in charcoal and of a shelf handstand, and the shadows are amazing and terrifying—before coming over to sit with her.  Maria hands over his phone as she takes the bowl from him.  “Steve called,” she says, and Tony opens the notification to get rid of it before opening his message.  He reads through it, and types back, _sorry, busy.  Probably will be the rest of break.  I need to call you after Christmas, though, talk about something.  Nothing bad, don’t worry._

 

“Anything good?” Maria asks when he finishes.

 

“Just saying hi,” he says, shrugging, “So, I want you to look at something before you get back to work.  I had a few ideas.”

 

They finish their snack, chatting about the opening, which they finalized the details for this morning, and though it’s kind of short notice, Maria thinks they’ll get a pretty big turnout.  When they’re done, Maria follows Tony into one of the other rooms, smiling as he steps into the center and starts talking, tapping his earphone before he brings Jarvis up, washing the room in a blue glow, and he reminds her of Howard when he was young, when he was still charming and sweet.

 

——

 

Steve panics, for a second, when they get to the theater, that Bucky is going to be one of those dates who just wants to make out during the movie, but then Bucky parks the car, leans over to press a kiss to Steve’s ear, and then says, “Listen, I hope you’re not a backseat tongue kind of guy.”

 

“Oh, thank god,” Steve says, looking over, “Not at all.”

 

“Good,” Bucky says, and then Steve’s gaze is shifting down to his mouth, and they’re maybe a little late for the movie because Steve can’t stop kissing him, can’t stop his hands from coming up to fist in his hair, can’t stop the soft noise that escapes him when Bucky kisses down to his jaw and bites there softly.

 

They don’t make out in the movie, which actually turns out to be pretty good, but then Bucky suggests going for a short walk along the beach, and they end up finding a lifeguard chair to climb, thankful that it hasn’t snowed in a while, so it’s dry.

 

Steve leans back against the chair, arm draped over the back of it, and Bucky settles next to him, leaning his head against his shoulder.  Steve lets his arm slide down, smiling when Bucky laughs softly, and he’s just about to speak when his phone buzzes in his pocket.  Bucky hums, leaning away, but Steve pulls him back.  “I’m sure it’s not important,” he says, and Bucky just grins.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, leaning forward, and they definitely make out at the beach.

 

——

 

The night before Christmas Eve arrives.

 

With it, so does a Stark party.  Tony grumbles about not being able to go to the studio, but Maria’s busy getting everything ready, and their presence is required tonight.  The party starts at four, and so, around three, Maria comes knocking, Tony’s suit freshly cleaned.  “Your father asked you to wear this one,” she says as she comes in, sighing when she finds him smoking, back against the wall and legs stretched out.  “Tony,” she says, shaking her head and going to open the window, “At least don’t make the whole floor smell.”

 

“Want a toke?” he asks, holding the blunt out.

 

“Tony,” she says, so Tony shrugs and brings it back to his lips, inhaling deeply.  Maria watches him, and then lets out a disgruntled noise before she goes to hang up his suit and then come join him on the bed.  Tony just grins and hands over the blunt, laughing when Maria delicately brings it to her mouth.  “My god,” she says before she coughs, handing it back over, “That’s strong.”

 

“Only the best for the Starks,” he says, and Maria rolls her eyes.

 

When he offers it again, she sighs.  “I shouldn’t.”

 

“You really should,” Tony says, exhaling, “It’ll make tonight easier.”

 

“Are you having company?” she asks, taking the blunt.

 

“I was hoping to, yes, unless you have other plans.”

 

“I have to play at being a wife tonight,” she says before she takes a pull on the blunt, “Jesus, Tony, where did you get this?”

 

“I’m just that awesome,” he says, winking.

 

They fall silent for a while, smoking until Maria reaches over, crushing the blunt out in the ash tray.  “I invited the Rogers’,” she says when she sits again.

 

“Are they coming?” Tony asks, leaning his head on her shoulder.

 

“They said they would,” Maria says, lifting a hand to thread her fingers through his hair, arm bracketed around his head, just resting there.

 

“Am I allowed to drink tonight?”

 

“Not a lot, please,” Maria says, laying a kiss on his unruly hair before resting her head on his.

 

“Am I required to take _all_ of my medication?” Tony asks softly.

 

“No,” Maria says, “Don’t worry about your father.  I’ll handle him.”  She straightens, smoothing Tony’s hair back before she presses her lips to his forehead and then again to his hair before she scoots off the bed, fingers grasping his toes and wiggling his foot before she goes over to his closet, taking the suit back out.  She brings it back to the bed, laying it out before she unzips the bag.  She runs her hands over the lapels, staring down at it.  “We’ll have to get you fitted for a new tux for the opening.  You’ve grown a few inches since you last had to wear one.”

 

“Are you asking Sara tonight?” Tony asks, knocking his foot against Maria’s arm until she tickles the bottom, and he pulls it away, making a face at her.

 

“Yes, if I can spare a moment away from your father.  He’ll be in France for a conference.”

 

“Convenient,” Tony mutters, rolling his eyes.

 

“I told him to,” Maria says, and Tony looks over at her in surprise.  She shrugs, straightening and looking at him.  “I don’t want him to spoil our night, and so he scheduled it before the opening’s date was released.  It was a prior engagement that he unfortunately could not reschedule, and thus he’ll be missed.  My date is far more handsome, however,” she says, smiling, and Tony puffs up, grinning.  “Don’t be cocky,” she says, tickling his foot again before disappearing into his bathroom.

 

Tony slides to the edge of his bed, dropping down before he goes over to his dresser, sorting out which pills he needs to take.  When he’s done, Maria is just exiting the bathroom, twisting her hair up into a bun as she goes.  “Get dressed,” she says, “Our guests will be arriving soon.”

 

“Yes, mother,” he says, tilting his face to the side so she can kiss his cheek before she leaves.

 

Tony decides to be fashionably late.  Many of the guests are already there when he comes downstairs a quarter past four, and he barely sees his father’s cold glare before he’s seeking out his mom.  She’s wearing a slim red dress that shows off her legs with lace lining the back and shoulders, professional black heels, expensive pearls, and her hair in a neat ponytail.  Tony’s suit is simple, black and white, and Maria brightens when she sees him.  “Darling,” she says, holding out a hand.

 

He takes it, letting her pull him into whatever circle she’s entertaining at the moment, and he hates this Maria, hates the one that shows off, the contained, reserved one that spends her time at spinning class, that wears the latest fashions, and that smiles like she couldn’t be happier being married to Howard Stark.  She is none of these things, and Tony hates that she feels like she needs to put on a show, needs to hide the paint-streaked, laughing mother that used to chase him around the backyard, used to climb with him into trees, used to make bird nests and fairy houses with him, used to rub charcoal on his cheeks and let him wear whatever he wanted and fall asleep with him curled against her.  She’s still many of those things, but never when Howard requires her to play the doting, careful wife.

 

When the Rogers’ arrive, though, Tony sees a little flash of _Maria_ , and he smiles, letting her excuse them before she’s tugging Tony along to go greet them.  “Sara!” she exclaims, and the two embrace tightly as Emma lets out a shriek, and Tony drops to one knee, holding out his arms.  She barrels toward him, jumping into his arms.

 

“Emmie bean,” he says warmly, standing, laughing when she giggles, holding onto him tightly.

 

“Let me down!” she whines, and Tony pretends to drop her, so she clings to him as he laughs.  He finally sets her down, and Leah and Riley are already waiting to say hello to him, so he hugs each of them before turning to Steve.

 

“Hey handsome,” he says, looking Steve up and down, who’s cleaned up nicely.

 

“Hey yourself,” Steve responds, and then Tony’s laughing and stepping in close to him.  “How are you?” Steve asks when they part, “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.”

 

“Yeah, it’s been crazy getting the gallery ready,” he says, “Which is what I need to talk to you about.”  He can hear Maria telling Sara all about it already, and so he takes care of Steve, who looks amazed by the end of it.

  
“That sounds incredible,” Steve says, “Dude, yes, we’ll be there.  Right?” he asks as Sara appears at his elbow.

 

“Of course,” she says, smiling, “Tony.”

 

“Sara,” he says, beaming, and she just shakes her head and pulls him close.

 

“Oh, it’s good to see you, sweetie,” she says, hugging him tightly, “We’ve missed you.”

 

When she pulls back, she cups his face, and he just shrugs.  “I know, I’m addictive.”

 

“Don’t sweet talk _my_ friend,” Maria says, arm sliding through his and he turns his smile up to his mom, letting it slide into a crooked smirk.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mother,” he charms, and she taps his nose.

 

“You’re trouble,” she says, and Tony just winks.

 

Dinner is fairly harmless.  Tony can’t sit with Steve because Howard requires him by his side, as with Maria, and so it’s not until later, when Howard invites the men into his study for a drink and Maria the women to her show studio—it contains no actual supplies, but a few, Howard-approved paintings—for a glass of wine.  Because many of their guests are Howard’s board members, Steve and his sisters are the only children, and so Tony leads them away from the adults.

 

“Are we going to your room?” Emma asks, skipping forward to hold his hand.

 

“Do you want to?” Tony asks, looking down at her excitedly.

 

“Yes!” she exclaims, dancing a little, and Tony just laughs and leads the way.

 

His room is on the third floor, above his parents’ floor, and it’s in the middle of the hallway, though it’s the only room on that side, and Leah and Riley let out matching, amazed noises when they enter.  “Tony, this is _huge_ ,” Riley says, looking around.

 

“Make yourself at home,” he says, and they wander off to investigate as Emma lets go of his hand, shrieking when she opens the door to his closet and sees how big it is.

 

“Steve, it’s like a cave!” she yells before she runs in.

 

Tony laughs, reaching up to undo his tie.  When he gets it off, he tosses it toward the end of his bed and then flops down, one leg hanging off the bed.  Steve climbs on next to him, and Tony gives him a shove, saying, “Wall’s my side, fuck off.”

 

Steve laughs, rolling his eyes.  It’s quiet between them for a few moments before Steve says, “Tony, I need to tell you something.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, turning his head so he can see Steve.

 

“I think I’ve figured things out,” he says, and Tony’s eyes widen a little.

 

“You think?”

 

“I know,” Steve says with certainty, nodding, “I’m, uh—I’m bisexual.”

 

“Good for you, man,” Tony says, reaching out for his hand, but Steve lifts it, letting it settle on his chest, and Tony frowns.  “Steve?”

 

“I met someone,” he says, and Tony stops breathing.

 

His jaw works as he tries to swallow down his anger, and, finally, he manages a tight smile, and says, “I’m happy for you.  I am.”  He nods, but it’s too quick, and Steve deflates a little.  “Steve, I am,” he tries to assure him, reaching out and patting his shoulder before he sits, “What’s his name?”

 

“Bucky,” Steve says, sitting, as well, “We’re not dating or anything, but—but I think we will eventually.”

 

“That’s good,” Tony says, his smile a little more genuine this time, “You deserve someone who will make you happy.”

 

Tony slides off the bed before Steve can respond and goes into the closet to find Emma, laughing when she starts screeching as he surprises her and starts tickling her.

 

He spends the rest of the night doing his best to be pleasant, but, as soon as the party is over and Maria is drifting off with Howard, Tony digs out his phone and calls Luke.  He answers on the third ring, “Hey, everyone gone?”

 

“Yes.  How close are you?”

 

“Fifteen minutes.  I—” but Tony hangs up.

 

He unrolls his yoga mat after changing and works through a quick routine before his phone is buzzing, signaling Luke’s arrive.  He goes down to let him in, putting a finger to his lips when he opens the door.  “My parents are still awake,” he says before he leads him up the stairs and to his room.

 

Inside, Tony goes back to his yoga, and Luke goes over to his bed, looking around.  “This is nice,” he says, and Tony just grunts, shifting into pigeon.  They sit in quiet for a while until Luke sighs and says, “I broke up with my girlfriend.”

 

Tony looks over.  “I’m sorry, man,” he says, “When?”

 

“Before break.  I wanted to tell you, but it didn’t feel right.”  Tony nods, turning his gaze back to his mat.  “It’s just you now,” Luke says as Tony shifts into king dancer, “Just me and you.”

 

“Luke,” Tony tries.

 

Luke cuts him off, “No, I—I want this.  I want _you_.  I want things to be better.  _I_ want to be better.  I want to be better _for you_.”

 

Tony comes out of king dancer slowly and then shifts in warrior three on the other leg, letting it blend into king dancer before he responds, “We can work on it.”  When he comes out, he does a few breathing stretches, and then goes over to Luke, crawling up toward him, straddling his waist and pushing him down with one hand on his chest.  “How’s your break been?” he asks.

 

Luke shrugs one shoulder.  “Kind of shitty.  I was glad you called.”

 

“Me too,” Tony says, and then he’s leaning down, kissing Luke slowly.

 

It’s been a long freaking time for him, and he missed the way Luke’s tongue flicked over his teeth before he slid inside, and so he groans when he does it now, pushes closer to him, hips rolling down into Luke’s, who curls his arms around him, bracketed over his back.  “Tony,” he sighs when Tony starts kissing down his front, mouth trailing cotton until he’s leaning up and shedding his own shirt, tossing it over the bed.  Luke runs his hands up his front, one hand pausing to cup his side, thumb sliding over his nipple, and Tony grinds down into his lap in response, head tipping back as Luke’s other hand slides back down, presses against his hardening cock.

 

“Hey,” Tony says, bringing his head back up and leaning down to kiss Luke again, “Nothing acrobatic tonight, okay?  I’ve been in and out of the hospital, working out some shit, so I’m a little tired.”

 

“Yeah, of course.  Is everything okay?” Luke asks, kissing his bearded chin.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony says before he’s fusing their mouths together again, silencing the conversation.

 

Luke rolls them, pressing Tony into the bed.  They kiss hotly, Luke’s hands sliding over Tony’s body until he’s pulling back and leaning their foreheads together, hips rocking into Tony’s quickly.  “God, Tony,” he groans.

 

“Fuck me,” Tony whispers, mouth tipping back up.  They kiss quickly, and then Luke’s leaning back, taking Tony’s sweats with him, pulling them off before he reaches for the back of his shirt, tugging it off.  He kicks out of his jeans, tugs down his boxers, and then scoots back, kissing down Tony’s front until he’s licking a stripe up the hard curve of Tony’s cock, and Tony whines, bowing off the bed as he takes the head in his mouth, sucking.

 

“Will your parents hear?” he asks suddenly, looking up the plane of Tony’s body.

 

“No, they’re—they’re a floor below.  Besides, _fuck_ ,” he breaks off as Luke wraps his lips around him again, swallowing him down until the head of Tony’s cock nudges his throat.  He threads his fingers in Luke’s hair, holding him there, letting Luke suck him off until Tony feels warmth pooling in his belly, and he pulls him off, tugging him back up so he can kiss him.  He flings out a hand when Luke mouths down his jaw and to his throat, over to his collarbone where he sucks a nasty bruise, and he manages to get the top drawer of his nightstand open, banging around until Luke laughs softly and leans over, finding the condom and lube for him.

 

He stretches Tony slowly, fingers sliding into his ass until Tony’s whining for more, and then he’s rolling the condom on, giving his dick a few, quick strokes, and lining up.  Tony pulls his knees up, and Luke smirks, hooking one arm beneath his knee while the other hand guides his dick to Tony’s entrance, presses until Tony’s gasping softly, hips rolling down as he tries to take more of Luke’s cock in.  “I thought you wanted it slow,” Luke says, looking up at him.

 

“Fuck no,” Tony says, giving him a bewildered look, “I said not acrobatic.  I want you to _fuck me_.”

 

Luke snaps his hips, and Tony cries out as he slides the rest of the way in, head brushing over his prostate.  He hooks Tony’s other knee over his other elbow and then leans in until he can kiss him, giving Tony time to adjust.  “God, _Luke_ ,” he groans when he pulls back, hips slowly shifting, “I’m gonna fucking murder you if you don’t—” he breaks off in a high whine when Luke slams back in, and then he’s fucking Tony’s ass, hips slapping against his skin until a soft blush is rising on Tony’s ass.

 

They move like that, together, Luke pressed close until Tony’s whining, and he shifts, rising up onto his knees, and Tony moans at the angle that gives him.  Luke pulls him up, ass settling in his lap, and he fucks him until they’re both shaking, Tony’s fingers bunching in the sheets.

 

“Fucking _hell_ —Luke, I’m—fuck, I’m close,” he gasps, back bowing off the bed as his cock throbs, leaking against his stomach.  “ _Luke_ ,” he whines, and then one of Luke’s hands is coming off his hip, but his thrusts start to stagger, and so Tony slaps at his hand so he’ll put it back, curling his own hand around his cock, groaning as he squeezes the base and then skips into a rhythm matching Luke’s.

 

He comes like this, back curved toward Luke, fingers biting into the skin at his hips until he’s sure he’ll have bruises, thumb pressing over the head of his cock, and he bites his fist to muffle the cry as his toes curl, orgasm rolling through him until he’s coming in thick stripes across his stomach.  Luke groans at the sight, hips stilling and then quickening until he’s thrusting shallowly, filling Tony, rubbing over his prostate until Tony’s whining, too far over, and Luke grunts, jerking forward as he comes in Tony’s ass.

 

Afterward, when they’ve cleaned up and tumbled back into bed, Tony tangles their legs together and kisses Luke until they’re both breathless again.  And then, for the first time since they first got together, they just lie together, talking about nothing as the minutes tick by until Luke’s pressing them closer, and Tony grins as his filling cock presses against his thigh.  “Yeah?” he says, and Luke just kisses him.

 

Tony rides him, hands curled around Luke’s knees, holding him steady as Luke grips his waist, hips rocking up into Tony even as he fucks down, but he needs him deeper, needs to feel him until he’s warm all over, and he slides off, dropping onto his hands and knees, and Luke just groans and mouths his way down Tony’s spine before he slides inside.  Tony holds onto the headboard, knees spread wide, Luke’s nails scraping over his shoulder, his fingers pinned around it.

 

Luke comes first, shouting when Tony tightens, right on the edge, and he whines when he feels Luke come, feels his cock pulsing in his ass.  He jerks himself until he’s gasping, and then he twists out of Luke’s hold, slamming onto his back as his cock throbs in his hand, and he’s so close, his thighs hurt from how tight they are.  “Luke,” he whines, fist a blur over his dick, and then Luke’s pulling his hand away and trapping Tony’s cock with his hot mouth.  He gives him a few, good, deep pulls, and then Tony’s coming undone, shouting and bucking, finishing down Luke’s throat.

 

They come down together, panting, and Tony groans when Luke leans up to kiss him.  “I’m gross,” he says, “I demand a shower.”

 

Luke leans down, kissing his tired dick, and Tony gives him a strange look until Luke says, “We’re fucking in the shower.  I demand it,” and then, against all odds, Tony’s cock twitches, and he watches him get off the bed, stares at his ass as he saunters off toward the bathroom.

 

“Fuck yeah, we are,” Tony mutters, hurrying to follow him.

 

He screams in the shower, muffling it with his fist, Luke biting his shoulder to contain his own, and they sag against the wall, shaking.  “Okay,” Tony says, head tipping back.  Luke takes advantage, kissing down his throat, but Tony pushes him away, lifting a hand to his chest.  “Hold on,” he says, and then his knees give out.  He slides to the floor, and Luke goes with him, looking more concerned than Tony expected.

 

“Can you just—oh fuck, that’s—shit,” Tony groans, head rolling forward as he pulls his knees up, tucking his head there.  “Inhaler,” he mumbles, “Nightstand.”

 

Luke nods quickly before he’s hurrying out.  He comes back with it, turns off the water, and then hands it over when Tony lifts a hand.  He sits with him while he calms, and then he’s kissing Tony’s knee when he lifts his head.  “No more tonight,” he says, and Luke nods.  “You should stay, though.”

 

“Okay,” Luke says, smiling, before he leans forward to kiss Tony softly.

 

Luke helps him up and to bed, where they tumble naked, Luke laughing when Tony kicks at the blankets.  He draws them over them, tugging Tony close until they’re curled together, and it’s not long before Luke’s fast asleep.  Tony stays up, watching the play of the moonlight over his face, but it’s not Luke’s face he’s seeing.  Tony untangles himself, rolling to the other side of the bed, and he hides his tears in his pillow.

 

He doesn’t understand.  He doesn’t know why he isn’t good enough.  He tried so hard, and still, he’s being pushed away.  He just wants to lie in Steve’s arms, able to kiss him whenever he wants or twine their fingers together or fall asleep feeling safe, and instead, he feels abandoned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, because we’re already sad at that ending—I hope, because I certainly was—I’m going to pop in with a note about Maria’s death. Originally, I had planned to have the crash happen at the end of Tony’s junior year, but I’ve recently decided that I want to stick with canon, and so the crash will be happening just before Christmas of his junior year. That means that we only have two Christmases with the Starks as a family, and so I will be warning before Christmas during Tony’s sophomore year so you can enjoy it to the fullest, as it will be the last. It took a while for me to come to this decision, and like I’ve said before, I won’t be swayed on it. Howard and Maria will die, and now, it will be happening as in canon, after Tony has turned twenty-one. Anyway, that’s enough sad news, I think. I hope you enjoyed, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	18. Chapter 18

Maria leaves while Howard is still asleep the next morning, and she makes her way upstairs, Howard’s bathrobe drawn around her.  She pushes open Tony’s door, stepping inside as she yawns.  “Tony,” she says, coming across the room, and then she stops short when she sees two bodies in his bed.

 

One of them is Tony, facing the wall, but the other, she doesn’t recognize.  He’s handsome in a way that Maria thinks he must have some other feature for Tony to let him in like this.  There’s nothing extraordinarily attractive about him, just soft brown hair, mussed from sleep, and a clean, smooth jaw.  She frowns—she knows who this is, knows why someone who isn’t extremely attractive, but likely incredibly intelligent, is lying next to her son, and it makes her blood boil.

  
Maria turns back out of the room, and she might close the door a little sharply, pulling Tony from his slumber.  He looks over at the door, frowning, but then Luke shifts a little, and Tony smiles, rolling over until their shoulders are pressed together, and he leans over, kissing Luke’s ear.  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, and Luke groans.

 

“The fuck time is it?” he mumbles.

 

“Doesn’t matter, you can go back to sleep after.”

 

“After _what_?” he mutters, cracking one eye open to look at Tony.

 

“Morning sex.  It’s my second favorite kind,” Tony purrs, shifting onto his side and kissing Luke’s shoulder.

 

“What’s the first?” Luke asks, yawning.

 

“Middle of the night.”

 

“That shit _sucks_ ,” Luke groans, stretching, “I hate being woken up for that.”

 

“Dude, it’s awesome,” Tony says, pushing at Luke until he rolls over onto his back and then he kisses down his front, pausing at his belly to look up and say, “I love being woken up, someone’s mouth on my cock, pulling me from some boring dream, to be fucked senseless into the mattress only to then fall back asleep.  The best is when you get to sleep in, and then late morning sex, and _hello_ ,” he hums as Luke’s cock nudges his chin, “Knew talking about my dick would get you up.”

 

Luke rolls his eyes, dropping his head back as Tony mouths down to his cock, and then he’s letting him harden on his tongue, sucking until Luke’s panting, and then he shifts up onto his knees, stretches himself as Luke finds a condom, and then he sinks down, holding onto Luke as he rolls them, one of Tony’s legs hooking over his shoulder.

 

Later, after Luke passes out, Tony showers, dresses, and goes downstairs in search of food.  Maria’s making tea in the kitchen when he comes in, and she whips around, mug slamming down against the counter and shattering.  Tony jumps, stopping as he stares at the porcelain scattered over the counter and floor.  “Mom?” he asks cautiously.

 

“Is that Luke?” she demands, her voice tight and angry.

 

“What?”

 

“Answer me, Anthony!” she shouts, palm slamming down on the counter, just barely missing one of the jagged pieces of porcelain.

 

Tony flinches, dropping his gaze.  “Yes.”

 

Maria is quiet until Tony looks up, and then she stalks across the room, putting more distance between them.  “Don’t you dare lie to me,” she says finally, turning to face him again, and the length of the island is between him, “Has that boy hurt you?”

 

“Mom—”

 

“Has he hurt you?” she yells, and then jerks back a step, arms crossing over her chest as her hands curl around her shoulders.

 

“No,” Tony lies.

 

“ _Anthony_!”

 

“Yes, okay!  Yes, mom, he has!” he shouts back, turning to the side.  He doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to let himself believe that this is happening.  They haven’t fought since high school, since everything fell apart, and he can’t let this happen, he can’t do this to her again.  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

 

“No, you’re not, don’t _fucking_ lie to me!  Why would you go back to him?  I thought things had ended with him, I thought you were letting him go!”

 

“Oh, like you let dad go?” Tony shouts, turning again so he’s facing her, “Like you—like you stopped him from hitting you, from abusingyou, from—from _raping_ you?”

 

“Tony,” Maria says, her voice going soft.

 

“Don’t pretend like it doesn’t happen!  Don’t pretend like he doesn’t force himself on you to end every fucking fight!  Don’t pretend—”

 

“Stop it!” Maria screams, nails digging into her shoulders, “This is not about me, this is about you and Luke!  He is poisonous, Tony!  He will—”

 

“You are such a fucking hypocrite,” he mutters, looking away again.

 

“Tony, he isn’t good for you,” Maria pleads, “Don’t do this.  Don’t let him in.  Do what I couldn’t, and walk away.”

 

“Why couldn’t you?” he snaps, tossing his words at the ground, “You had every opportunity to.  You could have been _happy_.”

 

“Without you?” Maria says, and he looks to her, “How could I have ever lived without you?”

 

“Mom,” Tony says, shaking his head, “What do you mean?  I wasn’t—”

 

“I tried to leave him,” Maria says, holding Tony’s gaze, “The day I packed my bags, I found out I was pregnant.”

 

Tony leaves before she can say anything else.

 

——

 

Later that night, when it’s late enough that his parents should be asleep, Tony makes his way to the second floor, down a long hall to their room, and knocks softly.  There’s noise like sheets moving, and then footsteps padding across the floor before Maria is opening the door.  She’s dressed for bed, in a long, loose shirt, which means she’s not expecting Howard to come to bed.

 

She immediately opens the door wider when she sees Tony, admitting him.  He crosses over to her bed and clambers up onto it, kicking the blankets away until he can slide under them.  He lies on his side, and Maria smiles, coming over to lie opposite him.  Tony reaches out a hand, and she tangles their fingers together, lifting them to kiss his knuckles.  “I’m sorry, Tony,” she says softly.

 

Tony shakes his head.  “Don’t,” he says, scooting closer, “You never have to apologize to me.  I love you, mom, no matter what.”

 

“Oh, baby,” she sighs, reaching out and pulling him against her.  “I love you so much,” she whispers into his hair.

 

They lie in silence for a while, the lullaby of their breaths slowly drawing them toward slumber until Tony shifts, snuggling closer, and says, “You could have been a single mom.  You already were, and you did amazingly.”

 

“Hush now, love,” she says, kissing his mess of hair, “Sleep.”

 

——

 

Christmas morning arrives, and, with it, Emma banging around until everyone is awake and groaning at the early hour.  “Emma, it’s seven o’clock in the _morning_ ,” Leah whines.

 

“It’s _Christmas_ ,” she says, and that about settles it.

 

They all gather downstairs in the living room, Emma dancing in front of the tree as she looks over all the presents, Steve and Leah grumbling as they tuck up with blankets and phones.  Steve opens his messages as Sara and Joe putter about in the kitchen, making breakfast.  He sends Tony a text first, _Merry Christmas, asshat.  Call me later for yoga if you’re free?  Jealous that you get to sleep in, Emma woke us up at seven._ He finishes that up, and then sends one to Bucky, _Merry Christmas.  I miss you.  I want to see you again soon.  Are you free New Years?  I’d like to have someone to kiss._

 

Leah rolls her eyes at his smile as he types, so he gives her a shove, and that’s when it begins.  “Oh, shut up, you’re so lovesick,” she says, making a face, “Who are you talking to, _Bucky_?”

 

“Who’s Bucky?” Riley asks, helping Emma take the stockings down and bring them over.

 

“Steve’s _boyfriend_ ,” Leah teases.

 

“He is not!” Steve exclaims, giving her a shove again, and he starts to turn back to his phone when Emma throws his stocking at him.  “Emma!”

 

“Why are you cheating on Tony?” she demands, hands on her hips, and they all gape at her.

 

“Where did you even learn that word?” Leah asks finally.

 

Emma shrugs.  “One of my friends at school said that her mommy said that her daddy was cheating on her.  I thought Tony was your boyfriend.”

 

“Tony’s just my friend, Em,” he says, and she narrows her eyes at him.  “I thought you liked Bucky.  He’s the guy from the bookstore, remember?”

 

“I don’t care,” she says, glaring, “He’s not Tony.”  She stomps away before Steve can say anymore, so he just sighs and settles into his stocking.

 

Later, after they’ve eaten breakfast and opened presents, they’re all spread out around the living room, and it’s around ten o’clock when Steve’s phone starts buzzing, and he smiles when he sees Tony’s picture.  He answers the facetime, lifting his phone, laughing when he sees Tony still in bed, face half mashed into the pillow, though it’s different.  Where Tony’s bedding is shades of blue, this is a dark, rich red.  “Where are you?” he asks.

 

Tony puts a finger to his lips, eyes sliding closed.  It takes a moment, but then he stretches, rolls over, taking the phone with him, and says quietly, “My mom’s still sleeping.  Her room,” he adds, “ _Why_ are you awake?”

 

“Emma woke us up.  She’s eight.  So, have you done anything Christmas-related yet?”

 

“Where are you?” Tony asks.

 

“Living room, so be good.  Oh, hey,” he adds when Emma scrambles up onto his lap and takes the phone from him.

 

“Tony!” she exclaims, and he groans, fingers darting passed the screen as he lowers the volume.

 

“Emmie bean, you’re gonna wake up my mom,” he murmurs, and Emma quickly slaps a hand over her mouth, gasping.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and then, “Why is your mommy in your bed?”

 

“It’s her bed, I fell asleep here last night,” Tony says before he yawns.

 

“Where’s your daddy?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tony mumbles, “How’s your Christmas, duckie?”

 

“I’m not a duck!”

 

“You look like a _duck_.”  Emma makes a face at him, and Tony laughs softly.

 

“Wanna see all my presents, Tony?”

 

She doesn’t wait for Tony to answer before she’s sliding off Steve’s lap, and she spends the next ten minutes showing off all her new things before she’s passing the phone over to Leah and Riley, who share screen time as they chat with Tony until they’re handing the phone back, and Steve waves.  “Looks like fun,” Tony says, “I didn’t read your text, I just saw that you messaged me.”

 

“I was asking about yoga later.”

 

“Yeah, definitely,” Tony says, and he starts to say more when there’s a soft, shushing noise, and he looks over his shoulder.

 

“Who are you talking to?” Maria’s voice floats over, quiet and tired.

 

“Steve, wanna say hi?”

 

“I’m asleep still,” she says, and Steve smiles—he can see where Tony gets it from.

 

“Too bad, you’re saying hi,” Tony says, rolling over again and showing his mom, who waves, smiling sleepily.

 

“Hello, Steve.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Maria,” Steve says in return.

 

“Oh, it’s Christmas,” she says, reaching out toward Tony, who turns the phone back, though his head is still tilted toward her, listening as she whispers something Steve can’t make out, and then Tony’s laughing and nodding.

 

“Mushrooms, don’t forget the mushrooms,” he says, lifting her hand to press a kiss to her fingers.

 

“So demanding,” Maria mutters before her hair is tumbling into the screen as she kisses Tony’s forehead and then gets out of bed.  It makes Steve sad, seeing them, knowing this is the only love Tony has ever gotten.

 

“She’s dancing now,” Tony says, returning to the call, “Oh, apparently she’s putting on Cher.  I should probably go, then.  There will likely be a dance routine.  I’ll call you later?”

 

“Yeah, if you’re free,” Steve says, smiling, “Have a good Christmas.”

 

“You, too.  Give my love to your parents,” and then he’s gone, and Steve wonders what Christmas at the Stark mansion is like, if it’s cold and quiet, or if Howard stays away, if it’s just Tony and Maria celebrating together, and thus warm and peaceful.

 

——

 

After their dance routine, which ends up being three numbers, Tony follows Maria into the kitchen, where she whips them up a quick breakfast, and they chat over eggs, mushrooms, and toast with jam.  When they’re finished, they go into the main living room, where a tree has been erected, decorated neatly.  Tony can’t remember the last time he decorated a Christmas tree, though he doesn’t particularly care whether or not he does.  The gifts beneath the tree, however, have all been hand-wrapped by Maria, and though some are labeled _from father_ , Tony knows Maria picked everything out.

 

They take their time opening presents, and, to their surprise, they’re only about halfway through when the door opens, admitting Howard.  Maria looks over, smiling as he comes toward them.  “Mind if I join you?” he asks, and she nods, watching as he sits in an armchair.

 

He usually waits to do his showing off until later, but, today, he watches Tony unwrap everything, and though it hurts that he shares most of his joy and quiet conversation with Maria—aside from the occasional thank you directed his way, though he recognizes none of his gifts—he waits in silence.

 

Only when Tony stands, saying, “Okay, your turn,” does Howard clear his throat, and they both look over at him.

 

“May I?” he asks, standing.

 

Tony nods, going to sit with Maria.  He presents Maria with a gorgeous, incredibly expensive bracelet that she gasps appropriately at, smiling widely and standing so she can kiss him.  “Thank you, Howard,” she says, gazing down at it.

 

He turns to Tony next, pulling a pair of keys from his pocket.  “It’s in the garage, but I think it’s high time you have a car of your own.”

 

Tony is shocked, just staring at him for a moment before he reaches for the keys.  “Wow,” he says, blinking, “Thank you, dad.”

 

“Of course,” Howard says, returning to his seat, “I can show it to you later, if you’d like.”

 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Tony says, grinning, and then Maria’s making a quiet noise, and Tony rolls his eyes.  Howard starts to reprimand him for disrespecting her, but Maria is smiling when he says, “Yes, mother,” in his most petulant tone, and it takes quite a bit of willpower to swallow down the discipline.

 

Tony goes back over to the tree, and Howard watches, curious to see if he’ll be outdone by his son yet again.  He hopes that maybe because he hasn’t had as much time this year, Tony might have gone smaller, but then he’s making two trips from the tree over to the sofa, pilling them up on the floor.  He slaps Maria’s hand when she reaches for one, pointing a finger at her, and Howard starts to straighten when Maria huffs at him and leans back, folding her arms over her chest.  “Such a queen,” Maria mutters, and Howard forces his glare down.

 

When Tony finally settles in front of her, he pokes around the gifts before selecting one and handing it up to her.  She opens it, and Howard frowns as she unveils a ream of paper, but then he notices the glossy sheen to it, and he recognizes it as photo paper.  “Tony,” Maria says, but Tony just reaches for another gift.

 

She continues to open the pile—many of them are art supplies, the theme photography, and Howard starts to feel smug until Maria finishes and says, “Okay, spill.  You said there was a reason behind these.  What is it?”

 

“It requires a field trip.  I can move this all later,” he says, standing, but then Howard gets to his feet, and he glances over at him, “Unless you want to help, dad?”

 

“Of course,” Howard says, coming over, “I’m eager to see how this all connects.”

 

“I’m awesome, obviously,” Tony says, grinning, and Maria just tugs on his hair and gathers an armful, waiting for him to take some before he leads the way.  Howard carries the rest, and Tony leads them out of the living room, through the foyer, and into Maria’s section of the first floor.  He bypasses the studio, which takes up half of the floor on the left and instead goes right, glancing back at Maria before he pushes into one of the rooms she doesn’t use.

 

When they step inside, Tony flips on the lights, casting the room in a golden glow, and Maria lets out this soft, disbelieving noise of awe.  “Tony,” she whispers, walking in until she can place her things down, and then she starts exploring, turning in the middle of the room to look at him, her eyes welling with tears.  “My own dark room,” she says, and Tony nods, putting his things down, as well.  “Oh, darling, thank you,” she says, holding out her arms, and Tony quickly crosses the room, embracing her.

 

Howard puts his armful down and leaves.

 

Maria pulls back, and Tony laughs when she lifts one of her hands to wipe away her tears.  “Mom,” he says, but she’s beaming, and she hugs him again, crying softly.

 

“This is beautiful,” she whispers, words pressing against his shoulder, “Thank you so much, Tony.”

 

“Anything for you,” he says, holding her tightly.

 

——

 

The days start to tick by.  New Years’ comes and goes.  Bucky invites Steve over for pizza and video games, and, when the ball drops, they’re curled up in bed, Bucky’s head pillowed on Steve’s chest.  They pause their movie to switch over to watch the ball drop, and then Bucky’s pushing upward and leaning down, kissing Steve long and slow.  Though Steve wants him to linger, wants to deepen the kiss and pull Bucky on top of him, he’s not ready yet, and he thinks Bucky just gets it, knows him so well already that he drops back down, arm curling around him.  They spend the night cuddling and watching movies, and Steve goes home around three.

 

The opening is scheduled for the twelfth, and so Tony and Maria spend most of their time in the gallery, working all day and much of the night, breaking only to sleep and occasionally eat.  On the eighth, Howard leaves for his conference, and they have the mansion to themselves.  Maria ends up giving everyone the rest of the week off, to return Monday morning, and she and Tony spend a little more time at home, making dinner together and doing yoga in the foyer because their laughs echo whenever one of them falls out of a pose.

 

Thursday night, three nights before the opening, Steve invites Bucky over to watch a movie and hang out after dinner, and so, around eight, he parks on the sidewalk and texts Steve as he’s getting out.  Steve gets to the front door as he’s knocking, and he pulls it open, smiling.  His parents are in the living room, so he stops to introduce Bucky to them, and then they’re heading upstairs.  They encounter Leah in the hall, leaving Riley’s room.

 

“Hey,” she says, waving as she crosses the hall to her room, “Is this Bucky?”

 

“This is,” Steve says, looking over at him, “Bucky, this is my sister, Leah.”

 

“The eldest of the ladies, right?” Bucky says, “Lovely to meet you, Leah.”

 

Leah looks him over, and then glances at Steve before she says, “For not being sure if you like men, you’ve got good taste,” before she goes into her room, and Steve starts to defend himself when he realizes what she said, and he turns.

 

“So, I’m not the first, then?” Bucky teases, “Come on, where’s your room?  You can tell me all about your first gay experience.”

 

He takes Steve’s hand, who stalls a moment longer before leading Bucky down the hall to his room.  When they get inside, Bucky lets go of his hand, looking around the room while Steve dumps onto his bed.  “Well?” he prompts, glancing over his shoulder while he’s at Steve’s bookshelf.

 

“It was my roommate at college,” Steve says, shrugging one shoulder, “Tony.”

 

“How are things between you and Tony now?”

 

“Platonic,” Steve says, and it sounds like a lie.

 

“My brother had that,” he says, and then, “You have good taste in literature.”  When Bucky turns, Steve straightens a little at the way he looks so much like a predator suddenly, one hip leaning against the bookshelf as he stares at Steve.  “I missed you,” he says, his voice pitched low.

 

Steve wants to groan, but he swallows it down.  “I missed you, too,” he says instead, and then Bucky’s pushing away from the bookshelf and coming across the room.  He stops at the edge of Steve’s bed, grinning when Steve looks up at him.

 

Bucky leans forward, kissing him softly, but Steve wants more, _has_ been wanting more, and he leans back, pleased when Bucky lets out a soft laugh and follows him, knees coming down on either side of him as he drops into Steve’s lap, settling there.  Steve shifts them a little until his legs are on the bed, and then Bucky’s pressing down against him, licking into his mouth and pulling a soft sound from Steve.

 

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs, mouth flittering down to his jaw and back to his ear.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Bucky licks the shell of his ear before he’s kissing down and biting the side of his neck lightly.  “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he presses the words into his skin, mouthing down until he can tug down the collar of Steve’s shirt, kissing along his collarbone.

 

Steve lets his hands slide up Bucky’s thighs to curl around his hips, pitching him down, and Bucky groans when their groins press together, the hard curve of their denim cocks rubbing against one another.  “ _Bucky_ ,” Steve says, the word stretching as he nudges at his forehead until he brings his head back up, and then they’re kissing hotly, sharing air as Bucky rolls his hips down against Steve’s.

 

Like a flare in deep darkness, Steve thinks of a golden glow, of sweatpants and fingers bunching in his shirt, of a whispered name, _Tony_.

 

“ _Steve_!” Emma’s voice echoes down the hall, and Bucky rolls off of him a second before the doorknob jiggles, and Steve sits up, darting a hand down his pants to adjust himself as the door opens.  Bucky does the same, and then Emma’s skipping in.  “Steve, I—” she breaks off, staring at Bucky.

 

It takes her a moment to recognize, process, and then her mouth dips down in a frown.  “Hey, Emma,” Bucky says, sitting up and folding his legs beneath him, “How are you?”

 

She doesn’t respond, instead stares at him, and Steve almost laughs at the way her eyebrow goes up, just one, and then she lifts her arms, crossing them over her chest before she turns to Steve.  “Why is he here?” she says.

 

“He’s my friend, Emma, remember?” he says, trying to give her an imploring look, and though she probably recognizes it, she ignores it.

 

“ _And_?” she says, barely glancing at Bucky.

 

Steve sighs.  “Did you need something, Emmie?”

 

“Don’t call me Emmie,” she says, stomping across the room, “You’re not allowed anymore.”  She grabs Steve’s phone before he can take it from the nightstand and starts to stomp back toward the door.

 

“Emma,” he sighs, and she spins around, glaring so much that her eyes are nearly closed.  “Why are you taking my phone?”

 

“Because mommy said I can’t have one until I’m in middle school, like you, but I need to call someone.”

 

“Emma,” he says sternly when she turns around again, “Who?”

 

“You know who,” she says nastily before stomping out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

 

“Okay,” Bucky says when she’s gone, “Did I do or say something to offend her?”

 

“No,” Steve sighs, dropping backward onto the bed, “She’s just—I don’t know.  She’s kind of in love with my roommate, and she’s a little pissed off at me, I guess, for mucking it all up.”

 

“Did you want to be with him?” Bucky asks cautiously, looking down at him.

 

Steve doesn’t know how to respond because _yes_ , he does want to be with Tony, but he’s not sure how to, so instead, he reaches over, fingers curling around Bucky’s wrist, and he tugs him down beside him, rolling onto his side and kissing him until Bucky gives in.

 

——

 

It’s late, later than it usually is when they get out, and Tony’s asleep when they hit the highway.  Maria smiles, glancing over at him, curled up in the passenger seat, his chest rising and falling slowly, calmly.  They’re about five minutes out when she hears his phone vibrating, and she frowns when he stirs, hand patting along his leg until it gets to his pocket.  He tugs the phone out, answers the call, and brings it to his ear without opening his eyes.  “Hello?” he says, his voice a little croaky.

 

“Hey babe,” Luke says, “You okay?  You sound funny.”

 

“Sleeping,” Tony mumbles, “What want?”

 

Luke laughs softly.  “Is tonight not good?”

 

Tony groans, reaching up a hand to rub at his eyes before he’s shifting, hand drifting to knead at his neck.  Luke waits until Tony’s finally awake, glaring at the dashboard.  “No, I’m free,” he says, scrubbing at his hair before he drops his hand back down, “How far out are you?”

 

“Still at my house, figured I’d call first.  I can be there in twenty.”

 

“Yeah, okay.  Call me when you get here,” he says before he hangs up, and then he drops his phone in his lap and stretches.

 

“Luke?” Maria asks, and Tony sighs at her tone.

 

“Can we just—not talk about it?” he mumbles, straightening, “He’s just gonna come over for a few hours, I promise he won’t stay over this time.”

 

“May I meet him?”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay,” Maria says, and Tony sighs.

 

“What, mom?”

 

“Nothing, just thought it would be nice if I could meet my son’s _booty call_.”

 

“Mom.”

 

“It’s fine, Tony, really.”

 

“Do you want to meet him?” he asks, looking over at her.

 

“No,” she says sharply.

 

“For fuck’s sake, mom, stop acting like me.”

 

Maria reaches over, yanking on his ear.  Tony whines as she takes her hand back.  “Don’t swear at me.”

 

“Don’t be petulant,” he shoots right back, rubbing his ear, “What do you want?”

 

“I just want you to be safe,” Maria says, deflating a little, “I worry about you, Cher.”

 

“I know, Sonny,” he mumbles, scooting over so he can lean his head against her shoulder, “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

 

“I hate when you lie to me,” she whispers, pressing a quick kiss to his hair.

 

“I know,” he says, “I got it from you.”

 

They spend the rest of the drive in silence, and then they’re heading into the mansion.  Maria says goodnight in the foyer before she goes to the kitchen, Tony taking the stairs up to his room.  Luke shows up fifteen minutes later, and Tony goes to let him in.  They’re barely through the door before Tony’s peeling off layers, mouth trailing Luke’s neck.  They tumble into bed, stripping clothes until they slide together, naked limbs tangling.  It’s slow like it hasn’t been in a long time, Luke rolling Tony onto his back and stretching him until Tony’s keening, knee hitched up around Luke’s ribcage as he presses hot kisses down his front.  After, he hooks one of Tony’s legs over his elbow, the other curling around Luke’s shoulder, and he fuses them together, groaning at Tony’s shout.  They fuck easily, a languid climb to the top, Luke filling Tony until he feels like he might burst.  He clings to Luke, one hand fisted tightly in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp, the other twined with his fingers, pressed against the pillow by his head.  Luke pants, pressing closer and closer until he’s trapping the heat between them, and Tony trembles, bowing up toward him.  “ _Tony_ ,” Luke gasps a moment before he comes, and Tony swallows down Steve’s name as he feels his orgasm pull low in his belly.

 

Tony sags boneless to the bed, legs dropping away as Luke rolls off of him, and then he’s kissing Tony’s shoulder lightning quick before he gets up, going into the bathroom to get something to clean Tony’s stomach off with.  When he comes back, Tony’s smile is loose, and he leans over, kissing him until his mouth is swollen and wet.  He cleans him up, goes to throw away the tissues in the trash, and then climbs back on the bed, peppering Tony’s front with kisses until he returns to his mouth, and he smiles when they part, Tony humming.  “God, I love you,” Luke whispers, brushing their noses together.

 

Tony quirks an eyebrow and pulls away, settling back into his pillows.  “You think you do,” Tony says, his smile slipping away until he just looks indifferent, “But watch out, I’ll break your heart.”

 

“I do,” Luke says, dropping onto his side and kissing Tony’s shoulder, “I worship you, Tony.  It’s only me and you now, and I love you.  I miss you every day I don’t get to see you.  I—”

 

“Luke,” Tony sighs, reaching over and pulling him in for a kiss.  He wracks his brains for another topic as he distracts Luke with his mouth, and then, when they part again and he opens his mouth, Tony beats him to the punch, “Did you hear about that new disease they found?”

 

“The dead one?” Luke asks, brightening, “ _Yes_.  Tony, they’ve managed to bring it back, and—” and he’s off, talking like Tony does, and Tony can’t help but smile and watch him, occasionally putting in his own thoughts.  He forgot this is why he was originally attracted to Luke, forgot about his neuroscience major, forgot that he can do this with him, can banter science until his brain is spinning from actually decent conversation.

 

Luke gets excited enough that he sits up, and Tony clambers over him and off the bed, going to find his marijuana stash.  He rolls them a blunt, and they talk about diseases, their knees touching.  Eventually, Luke remembers they’re naked, and he presses Tony down and wraps his lips around his cock, letting him harden on his tongue until Tony’s pulling him away and rolling over onto his front, tucking a pillow beneath him.  This time, it’s fast and hard, and Luke is sleepy afterward, dozing while Tony lies curled in his arms, letting his breaths come down until he feels like he could drift off, and that’s when he stretches, poking at Luke until he whines at him.

 

“What?” he mumbles, snuggling against Tony.

 

“You can’t stay over,” he says, pushing at him until Luke rolls away, and he gets up, going to find pants.  “Get out of bed,” he says when Luke doesn’t move, “I promised my mom you’d leave, and I need to be up early tomorrow anyway.  _Luke_ ,” he adds when he continues to lie there, “I’ll fucking hit you.”

 

Luke grumbles at him, but gets out of bed and dresses anyway.  Tony walks him down to the door, and he’s about to turn away when Luke reaches for him.  He goes, letting Luke kiss him softly.  “I love you, Tony,” he whispers when they part, and Tony rolls his eyes.

 

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says before he steps back and starts to close the door.  Luke leaves, and Tony goes back upstairs.  He has half a mind to take something to keep himself up, but he has a busy day tomorrow, so he slips under his blankets and lets sleep take him.

 

——

 

It’s around midnight, and Steve and Bucky have drifted off to a video game when Riley knocks and, as she’s coming in, “Hey, I didn’t know Tony was here, I—oh,” she breaks off when she sees Bucky, “Sorry, I thought—I heard voices, so I just assumed it was Tony.”

 

Steve forces his impending frown into a smile and says, “This is Bucky.  Bucky, my sister, Riley.”

 

“Hey,” Riley says, waving as she comes in, “Emma asked if I would give this back.”  She hands over Steve’s phone.

 

“Did she manage to get in contact with him?”

 

“Yeah, they facetimed for about an hour while he was at the gallery, I guess.  We’re still going to that, right?”

 

“Yeah, of course.  I actually, uh—I wanted to ask you about that,” he says, turning to Bucky, who lifts his eyebrows, “My roommate’s mom has a gallery that she’s opening on Sunday.  If you’re free, I was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”

 

“The roommate everyone appears to be obsessed with?” Bucky sighs, and Steve frowns.

 

“It’s not like that,” he says softly.

 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Bucky says, hand finding his, “What kind of gallery?”

 

“She’s a painter,” Riley says, smiling, “Though Tony said there will be a ton of mediums there.  It’s going to be so awesome, I’m so excited.”  She directs her attention to Steve, “Did mom tell you Maria was taking us out to get our nails done on Saturday?”

 

“That’ll be fun.  Have you guys picked out your dresses yet?”

 

“Mom’s taking us shopping tomorrow.  Anyway,” Riley shrugs, “I’ll leave you guys alone.  It was nice meeting you, Bucky.”

 

“You, too, Riley,” Bucky says, smiling.  When she’s gone, Bucky drops a kiss to Steve’s shoulder before he says, “I should get going.  It’s late.”

 

“Are you mad?” Steve asks.

 

Bucky shakes his head, tilting his chin up, and Steve smiles, leaning in to kiss him, soft and slow.  “Never,” Bucky says when they part, “But I am tired.  I’ll let you know about Sunday tomorrow, okay?”  Steve nods, and he intends to get off the bed, but then Bucky’s kissing him again, and he gets lost in him, lost in the way his hand slides along his chest, just resting there, until Bucky’s pulling back and grinning.  “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, tipping up to kiss Steve’s nose, “And addictive.”

 

“Good to know,” Steve teases, so Bucky bites his lip, kisses him, and then pushes at him until he gets off the bed.  He gathers his things, and Steve walks him downstairs and out onto the porch.  “Text me when you get home safe?” he says, lingering.

 

“We’ll see,” Bucky says, grinning.  Steve rolls his eyes and pulls him close, kissing him until they’re both a little breathless.  Bucky leaves after that, and Steve’s barely settled in his bed again when his phone rings.

 

He answers it, confused, “Bucky?”

 

“You’ve got this laugh,” Bucky says, “It’s really quiet, and I don’t think you even know you’re doing it, but it’s always right before a big one.  It’s my favorite.”

 

Steve grins like a lovesick teenager and rolls over to hide his face.  “Yeah?” he mumbles.

 

Bucky laughs, and he can almost hear his nod.  “Yeah, it’s cute.”

 

He ends up talking to Bucky until he gets home, and then they nearly fall asleep whispering back and forth, so they hang up, and Steve dreams about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I posted the newest addition to the shake it out series yesterday, a new spideypool called _[you are the morning when it’s clear](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1581608)_ , and you should totally go check it out! Peter and Wade are easily one of my favorite couples to write about, and I’ve actually already started the fourth in the series for them, which I’m very excited about.
> 
> As for this, I hope you enjoyed, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is an art note! This chapter contains the opening of the gallery, and there is a collection on the second floor that I don’t want to spoil, but it’s called _little hands_ , and there is a profile of Tony just before entering the collection. My amazing friend, Erin, who is incredibly talented and has been reading this from the very, very beginning, drew this profile, which you can find [here](http://undertheblu.tumblr.com/image/88022864553), and I am just in awe of it because I think it’s absolutely how Maria would have drawn Tony. Thank you so much, darling!

In the morning, Maria is cooking breakfast, Tony chattering on about snow leopards because it’s the first thing that pops into his head, when the doorbell rings.  “Got it,” Tony says, slapping the island before he hops off his stool and heads out of the kitchen.

 

When he comes back, he’s talking so quickly, Maria can barely understand him, and she looks over at a woman’s laugh.  Tony comes back into the kitchen with a man and a woman trailing him.  The man is tall and handsome in a frustrated sort of way with wild, dark curls and matching eyes, his jaw covered in a short beard.  The woman is beautiful in a natural way, with wide, dark eyes and long, tumbling dark hair, swept up in a ponytail and swinging as she walks.  She smiles as they enter the kitchen, hand wound tightly with the man, and Maria knows, instantly, who they are.

 

“Oh my goodness,” she says, smiling widely as she wipes off her hands and turns, “Is this the super couple?”

 

“I thought you only called us that to Steve,” Betty says, smacking Tony, who grins at her.

 

“You _are_ super.  Mom, this is the most amazing couple in the world, Betty and Bruce.  Guys, this is the magnificent Maria Stark, the most wonderful mother in the world.”

 

“Hush, you brat,” Maria says, tugging on Tony’s hair when he comes over to her, leaning up to kiss her cheek.  “Are you leaving me?” she asks, hand coming up to curl around his jaw.

 

“I am.  How will you ever survive?”

 

“I fear I might perish, my darling.  I feel faint even now.”

 

“Oh, Sonny,” Tony croons, and Maria smiles widely.

 

“Have fun,” she says, tapping his nose with her other hand before she tips his head down to kiss his forehead, and then, in a whisper, “Invite your friends out for dinner.  I want to get to know them.”

 

“I will,” he says before he steps back.

 

“Safe driving.  It was lovely meeting you, Betty, Bruce,” she adds louder to them, “I do hope you’re coming Sunday.”

 

“We are,” Betty says, smiling, “It was nice meeting you, too, Mrs. Stark.”

 

“Maria, dear.  You,” she says, pointing to Tony, who’s bothering Bruce, “Be good.”

 

“Yes, mother,” he says, so Maria makes a face at him before going back to her breakfast.  “Come on,” Tony says, leading them out of the kitchen.

 

“Your mother is adorable,” Betty says as they make their way upstairs.

 

“I can see where you get your mannerisms,” Bruce says, and Betty laughs, nodding.

 

They stop by Tony’s room so he can gather his things, grabbing a backpack while they look around.  He finds a change of clothes for later when he’ll eventually end up at the gallery, a book, his tablet, and his meds before he shoulders it and they go back downstairs to the second floor.  “I just need to pop in,” he murmurs, going down the hall and into Maria’s room.

 

“Should we wait outside?” Bruce asks, not following.

 

“No, it’s fine, it’s only me and her in the house.”  They go inside, gaping at the sheer size of Tony’s parents’ room.

 

He dumps his backpack on the bed and then goes over to the closet, stepping inside.  He rummages around for a bit before coming back out, a black bag in hand.  “Okay, everyone paying attention?  I know what it looks like, but it’ll help to have a few extra eyes.”

 

Tony hangs the bag up and then carefully unzips it, pulling the sides away before he reaches in and takes Maria’s dress out.  He turns, and Betty gasps, grabbing at Bruce.  “Oh my god, it’s so beautiful,” she says, coming over to look at it closer, “Oh, she’s going to look amazing.”

 

“Wow,” Bruce agrees, gaze flicking over it, “That’s—incredible.”

 

“She has fantastic taste, I know,” Tony says, looking down at it before he looks back at them.  “Got it?”  When they nod, he puts it back, returns it to the closet, and then they’re heading out.

 

——

 

They take Tony’s new car—the latest Audi R8—Bruce claiming shotgun so he can flail over it.  He and Tony get to talking about cars, and Betty tunes them out, just glad that they’re bonding.  It’s not that Bruce and Tony don’t get along, but she always feels bad that she spends so much of her time with Tony when Bruce seems to be, more often than not, annoyed by him.

 

When they eventually stop, it’s in front of a barber shop, and Bruce looks over at him.  “Really?”

 

“It’ll take barely a half hour,” he says, killing the engine, “You guys said you didn’t mind doing errands with me, and my mom will _murder_ me if I don’t come home with my hair cut.”

 

And so, they go in, where Tony already has an appointment, and so he’s swept up in a flurry of people.  He’s quick, though, and Betty laughs, nudging Bruce.  “They treat him like he’s some celebrity,” she says, watching as they all fawn over him.

 

“He is in this world,” Bruce says, shrugging, “It’s kind of weird.  I’ve never really paid attention to the fact that he’s filthy rich, and he doesn’t act like it usually.”

 

“I bet you that’s because of Maria,” Betty says, “She probably raised him herself, and that’s why he’s so humble sometimes.  I mean, he could be a lot worse, and he’s pretty great for a spoiled, rich brat.”

 

“He’s lucky to have her,” Bruce says.

 

They finish up there, Tony tugging at his hair when they get back in the car.  “It looks good,” Betty compliments.

 

“Yeah, they just put so much shit in it, it’s awful,” he says, raking a hand through it.  “Alright, I have—” he pauses to check his watch, “—an hour before my fitting.  You guys hungry?”  And so, they end up at some burger joint he knows about, just chatting and catching up until Tony’s ushering him out.

 

“So, how big is this thing going to be?” Betty asks when they’re back on the road.

 

“Huge,” Tony says, “Like—Jesus, some of the press have already started showing up, see if they can catch a glimpse of the final details.  She still hasn’t finished one of the collections.  There’s still so much to do tomorrow, and she’s going to be out most of the day with Sara.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Steve’s mom.  Alright, this might take longer, but you guys can actually come back, and we can still hang out.”  They go into a small, but handsome shop, where a receptionist smiles brightly at Tony and informs him that his _tailor_ will be along shortly.

 

“You have a tailor?” Bruce says, rolling his eyes, so Tony makes a face at him.

 

He gets fitted for his tux, which takes some time, enough that Tony is starting to get fidgety.  When they’re finally out, though, they make their way down the street, past a long line of shops until they reach a jeweler’s, and then the real fun begins.  “So, what are we looking for?” Betty asks even as she’s drawn over to the rings.

 

“Watch out,” Tony teases Bruce, nodding to Betty.  Bruce jabs him in the side, and Tony grunts, though he’s grinning.

 

“Good afternoon,” a young woman says, smiling as she approaches him, “We don’t have any public restrooms, I’m afraid.”

 

“That’s fine, I tinkled while I was at lunch,” Tony says sweetly, smiling right back, “Be a dear, and don’t be a bitch.”

 

“ _Tony_ ,” Betty and Bruce hiss at the same time, turning.

 

The woman’s smile lilts down into a frown, but Tony just shrugs and says, “I’m looking for a necklace, something simple.”

 

“If you’re looking to save money, I might suggest one of the chain stores in the mall,” the woman says, and Tony transforms.

 

Betty and Bruce watch in amazement as he straightens, grin slipping into place as he extends a careful hand.  He’s poised suddenly, a business man as he says, “Anthony Stark, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss—”

 

He blinks, waiting.  “Miss Eichen,” she says, blushing as she shakes his hand, “My apologies, Mister Stark, I didn’t recognize—”

 

“No, you wouldn’t.  A necklace, Miss Eichen.”

 

“Of course,” she says, smiling and leading the way down the line of glass cases.  Tony follows after her, glancing over his shoulder to stick out his tongue, and Betty laughs, hiding behind Bruce when the woman looks over.

 

They look around while Miss Eichen shows off various necklaces to Tony, who is dissatisfied at every turn until he sighs and turns.  “Betty,” he says, and she comes over.  As soon as she’s within reaching distance, he reaches up, tugging her jacket off.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Hush, daddy’s working,” he says, holding out her jacket as Bruce walks over.  He takes it, quirking an eyebrow as Tony lifts Betty’s chin lightly, straightens her shoulders, and then, after winking, tugs her hair loose, letting it tumble around her.  “May I?” he asks, turning back to Miss Eichen.  She nods, handing over one of the necklaces she’d been showing him, and he takes it, going around behind Betty and hooking it on.  He carefully lifts her hair out from beneath the chain, letting it settle again before he steps back around, fingers curling around Bruce’s wrist and taking him with him.

 

They stand before Betty, Tony frowning.  “It’s too much,” he says finally, coming forward to unclasp the necklace.

 

“Something without a pendant, then?” Miss Eichen says, putting away the necklace and moving toward another case.  They try on a few short chains, but even Bruce doesn’t like them.

 

“I don’t think a diamond works,” he says softly.

 

“Bruce!” Tony exclaims, hitting him, and he jumps, glaring at Tony.

 

“ _What_ , asshole?”

 

“Black,” he says, turning, “Miss Eichen, do you have any black diamonds?”

 

“They’re quite expensive, Mister Stark, I—”

 

“Money’s not an issue,” he says dismissively, and she nods, bringing him farther into the store.

 

“Natural black diamonds are incredibly rare,” she says, stopping at a case, “Though we do have one, but it’s—”

 

“Yes,” Tony says, staring down at it, “It’s perfect.”

 

“Mister Stark?” Miss Eichen says, looking at him in surprise.

 

“Holy shit,” Bruce says as he comes over, “That’s, like—Betty, look at this.”

 

“Oh my,” she says, touching Tony’s arm, “How much is it?”

 

“Well,” Miss Eichen says, but Tony just shrugs and digs out his wallet.

 

——

 

“Girls!” Sara calls as she sees Maria’s car pull up along the street.  She comes out of the kitchen to go into the hall closet for her jacket.  “ _Girls_!”

 

Footsteps thunder upstairs as Steve pokes his head out of the living room.  “Where are you guys going?” he asks.

 

“Out with Maria.  _Girls_!”

 

“We’re coming!” Leah shouts back down.

 

“Steve, if you have Bucky over, _please_ be good,” Sara says, turning back to Steve, “Just—be safe.”

 

“Mom,” Steve says, “We’re not even dating.”

 

Sara lets out a short laugh, shaking her head as she leans forward, tapping Steve’s nose.  “You weren’t dating Tony on Black Friday.”  Steve gapes as Sara turns to answer the door.  She admits Maria, who smiles widely.  They embrace as the girls are coming down the stairs.

 

“Hello, ladies!” Maria says when she pulls away from Sara, “How are you?”

 

“Excited!” they all chorus as they scramble to get their jackets.

 

“Steve,” Maria says, turning her smile to him.

 

“Hello, Maria,” he says, coming forward.  She hugs him tightly, humming softly.  She reminds him so much of Tony, he almost forgets to breathe, and, when they part, Steve’s smile is a little sad.  Maria doesn’t notice, too caught up in the girls, and so Steve just waves, promises his mom he’ll be good, and then they’re off.

 

They go out for lunch first and then head over to the nail salon, where Maria has a reservation for all of them.  The girls pick out colors, and then Maria and Sara tuck in for a pedicure.  “So, is everything done for tomorrow?” Sara asks.

 

“Not yet,” Maria admits, leaning back in her chair, “I still have to hang up a few pieces and finish one, but it’ll be done in time.  Is Steve bringing Bucky?”

 

“I think so.  They’ll probably end up spending the day together today, and he said he’d let me know next time he talks to him, so I imagine he’ll be there.  Does Tony know about Bucky?” Sara asks.

 

“He does,” Maria says, “He was—he took it a little hard.  He’s still so in love with him, Sara.  I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear, but—” Maria breaks off, shaking her head.

 

“No, I get it,” Sara says, nodding, “I think Steve is, too.  I just don’t know if he knows how to admit it.  I like Bucky, though, I really do, but I miss all the Tony stories.  I really thought they were going to start dating soon, and then it all went downhill.”

 

“Boys,” Maria sighs, “They’re so difficult.”

 

“Speaking of,” Sara says, looking over imploringly, “How are things with Howard?  Has it gotten any better?”

 

“He’s trying, he really is,” Maria says, nodding, “But I think it’s hard for him, seeing the way Tony acts with me.  I think he’s starting to realize that he really doesn’t have a son, and I think he understands that that’s his fault.  They spent some time together on Christmas, though, which was nice.  Howard got him a new car, and so they hung out in the garage for a while.  He hasn’t touched him once since Tony’s been home, though he did try to get him back on his other medications.”

 

“For the bipolar and ADD?”  Maria nods, and Sara sighs.  “I’m sure Tony appreciated that.”

 

“He’s such a zombie when he’s on everything, Sara.  I hate seeing him like that.  I managed to convince Howard to just let him take what he needed for his heart.”

 

“And how did he react to that?”

 

Maria doesn’t respond right away, gaze turned down to the woman working on her feet.  “Things are good between Howard and Tony,” she says, finally looking up again, “That’s all that matters.”

 

“Maria,” Sara sighs, but Maria shakes her head.

 

“It’s okay,” she says, “I’m used to it.  How have the girls been?  I feel like I haven’t seen them in forever.”

 

Sara takes the bait, though she wishes they were somewhere more private, like they usually are, wishes she could address these issues.  Instead, she tells Maria about the girls, about Riley finally coming out to her, how she and her friend started dating just after New Years’; about Emma’s new dance class, which Leah has been assisting in, how she’s been excelling at tap and asking if she can stop her other classes to focus primarily in that; about Leah’s upcoming meetings at Julliard and Tisch, how, though she’s only a sophomore, they’re already showing great interest in her.  Maria soaks it all in, asking a million different questions until they’re rejoining the girls for the manicures, and she starts interrogating them.  They all laugh and answer her questions dutifully.

 

Maria’s left hand is nearly done, a dark, smoky charcoal grey, when her phone rings, and she taps it with her still drying right hand, putting the call on speaker.  “Hey sweetheart,” she says warmly, “How’s everything?”

 

“Good, good,” Tony’s voice echoes up, and Emma starts fidgeting.

 

“Emma wants to say hello,” Maria says, and then all the girls are shouting their greetings.

 

Tony laughs, “Well, hello, my favorite little ladies.  I hope my darling mother is treating you well.  Speaking of, _darling mother_ , I—”

 

“What did you do?” Maria cuts him off, and Bruce’s laugh erupts on the other line.

 

“Dude, that is pretty awesome,” he says.

 

“Shut up, I told you she’s good at this,” Tony says, “I did nothing, I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Everything’s taken care of.  I’m picking up the tux later tonight, but I’m near Kelly’s place, do you want me to pick up your shoes?”

 

“I would much appreciate it, Tony.  Did you go to the barber’s?”

 

“I said I would,” Tony says as Bruce laughs again.

 

“That doesn’t mean you actually did it.  I know how you are,” Maria chides, and Tony groans.

 

“ _Mom_ , yes, I went.  They put shit in my hair, and now I feel like a runway diva, so—”

 

“Watch your language, you’re on speaker,” Maria cuts him off, “Also, you’re already a diva, you don’t need hair product to add to that.  Oh my god,” she adds, her mouth dropping open as she remembers.

 

“What?”

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Maria says, closing her eyes, “Tony, I never made a hair appointment.”

 

“ _Mom_!”

 

“I know it’s out of the way, darling, but please, I need you to stop by James’ and see if he can do anything.”

 

Tony sighs, and she can see him, scrubbing a hand through his sticky hair and whining about it.  “Yeah, I’ll go after Kelly’s.  He’s gonna give you hell for it, though.”

 

“I know, I know,” Maria says, shaking her head, “Give him my apologies, and let him know I’ll give him kudos tomorrow night with the press.  He’s invited, too, of course, so he’s free to show off.  What are you doing after James’?”

 

“I was gonna take Betty and Bruce to the gallery, make them help me finish everything.  Did you end up finishing the lotus last night?”

 

“I didn’t, I have to go in after dinner and work on it.  Don’t forget to finish installing the audio track upstairs.”

 

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.  Alright, I’m almost at Kelly’s.  What time do you want to do dinner?” he asks, and then, softer, “I told you to shut up about it.  You’re coming.  My mom wants to get to know you, and thus, you have no choice, she’s ruthless.”

 

Maria laughs lightly, shaking her head.  “You’re awful,” she says, “I’ll let you know about dinner.  Be good, you hear?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waves her off, “I love you lots, Sonny.”

 

“I love you so much more, Cher,” she says, and then Tony’s hanging up.

 

Sara smiles next to her, and Maria shrugs, though her own smile is wide.  “I’m glad you have him is all,” Sara says, “And that he has you.  You’re an amazing mother to him.”

 

“Thank you, Sara,” Maria says, her eyes hot as tears prick at the corners.  She reaches up a hand, dabbing them away.

 

“Maria,” Sara sighs, her smile going a little sad, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, I’m sorry.”

 

“No, no, it’s happy tears,” Maria assures her, nodding, “I just—I don’t get to hear that a lot, and I’m always so afraid I haven’t done right by him staying with Howard.  I just want my son to be happy and safe, and I don’t think I always accomplish that.”

 

“He has you,” Sara says firmly, “I don’t think he could be any happier than when he is with you.  The bond you two have is remarkable.  He must have been adorable when he was younger.”

 

Maria laughs.  “He was something alright,” she says, smiling fondly as she thinks on Tony’s childhood, “Goodness, he was so quick, always running around, always barefoot, always covered in something.  We spent every second together.  They grow up so fast,” she adds, and this time a tear falls, and Sara laughs, nodding.

 

“Oh god, you’re going to make me cry now,” she says, tilting her head up and blinking, “Stop it.”

 

Leah starts laughing at them, and then Maria and Sara are reminiscing about their boys, trying their hardest not to cry and mostly failing.

 

——

 

They’ve been lying together, kissing slowly, legs tangled together, when Bucky shifts, scooting closer to Steve, who wraps his arms around him, closing his eyes.  “I don’t want you to go back to school,” Bucky admits, trying to hide the words in Steve’s chest.

 

“I know,” Steve murmurs, kissing his hair, “I don’t want to leave you.”

 

Bucky sighs, and though Steve can hear it, can hear what he wants to talk about, he holds it back, and Steve is grateful.  He can tell, just by the way he talks sometimes, by the way his touches linger, that he wants more than this casual thing they’ve got going, but Steve’s not sure he’s ready to be in a relationship with him, not sure he’s ready to be back at school with Tony, trying to be _just friends_.  He wants to test the waters first, see what happens the first few weeks back, and then he thinks he can be okay enough to make this decision, to either start dating Bucky or not.

 

Finally, Bucky speaks, “The gallery is tomorrow, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, pulling back a little.

 

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, stretching a little before he says, “I’d like to go, if I’m still invited.”

 

“Of course,” Steve says, smiling, “I want you to go.  It’s going to be fun.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky says, nodding, and then he’s leaning up to kiss Steve, and they stop talking.

 

——

 

The night of the opening arrives.

 

After all the rushing and preparing, everything finally settles, and seven o’clock rolls around, signaling the arrival of the first guests.  Maria is to appear at seven thirty, but the press is already lined up when the Rogers’ get there, and it’s a little bit of a shock.  A valet comes to open their doors, and they all get out, processing through the teeming crowd of photographers and toward the double doors, where two men in pristine suits await, letting them in as they approach.

 

Inside, the gallery is _beautiful_ , the first floor filled with mostly paintings, a few sculptures, charcoals, and water colors, but everyone is browsing the first floor, so Sara ushers them over toward the stairs, a massive curving structure that brings them to the second floor.  As they come out onto the floor, a high, childish giggle erupts around them, soft and drifting off into the distance.  A familiar voice follows it, “Tony!” and Sara gasps.

 

“Oh my god, it’s Tony and Maria,” she says, looking up toward the ceiling.

 

Bucky arches an eyebrow, looking over at Steve, whose attention is caught on the first piece, the only one on a white wall, though it takes up much of the wall.  It’s a charcoal of Tony’s profile, and it looks recent.  His head is tilted up, lashes fanning over his cheeks, and he’s smiling fondly, his hair soft looking, his expression easy.  Above it, gorgeous handwriting is scrawled, _little hands_.

 

“Little hands?” Bucky asks quietly, leaning toward Steve.

 

“I think this is his collection.”

 

“Wait, this is—holy shit, did she dedicate an entire floor to him?”

 

Sara leads them forward, through an arching doorway, and, as they pass under, another laugh bubbles out, this one a little deeper, like an older child.  “Mom, look!” Tony’s small voice echoes around them.

 

To the left, a small room branches off that contains a series of black and white photographs, scattered around the room, detailing Tony’s life from birth to college.  The first one is of a little baby sleeping, and Steve smiles as he approaches it, thinking of what Tony must have been like when he was little.  They continue around—a naked butt at the beach, clinging to a tree branch as his legs dangle, covered in grease, covered in paint and wearing overalls with an armful of paintbrushes, attempting a yoga pose; and then, as he grows into his teen years, asleep in the grass, taking apart the microwave, surrounded by tools, covered in grease but working on a car this time, making a silly face while covered in war paint, conquering a new yoga pose; and then, toward the end of high school and the beginning of college, bent over a book, surrounded by a brilliant light that’s a prototype of Jarvis, asleep on a futon, and again on the floor in a ridiculous position, holding a scorpion stand, dancing, and so many, many more.

 

Back in the main room, the different corners are filtered with different laughs, getting deeper the older he gets.  At the back wall, in the center, is an enormous painting of the ocean, so many shades of blue and green that Steve gets lost looking at it.  The sand looks so real, Steve reaches out, fingers drifting over it.  The water is mostly calm but for a few, small waves, and the moonlight glitters over its surface.  There are multiple other pieces dedicated to him, as well as _of_ him, though there are only a few that include his face.  One is of his busy hands, wires looping around his fingers and curling around his wrists.  Another is of his feet buried in the sand, little toes poking out.  One, that Sara lingers by, shows the soft curve of Maria’s jaw, her hands cupping Tony’s face, her lips pressed to his forehead.

 

To the right, another room branches off, with a title sketched into the doorway, _the lotus_.  Inside is a work in progress, though the room is full of various mediums of Tony in various yoga poses.  Some are paintings or charcoals of him holding the pose, some are abstractions, some are the fluid movements between poses, and some are so elegant that Steve is left in awe of them.

 

It’s nearing seven thirty when Sara calls for them, and Bucky comes up beside Steve, though he doesn’t reach for his hand.  “Are you okay?” Steve asks softly.

 

“This is—this is a _shrine_ , Steve,” he says, shaking his head, “I guess it makes sense.  Everyone is in love with Tony Stark.”

 

“Bucky,” he tries, but Bucky just walks ahead, following Steve’s family toward the stairs.

 

When they come downstairs, the doors are just opening, and every head turns.

 

Maria comes in with Tony on her arm, and Steve isn’t sure he’s ever seen a more beautiful couple in the world.  Tony is as handsome as is physically, humanly possible, in a dark, charcoal grey tuxedo, the material shimmering lightly under the brilliant lights.  His shirt is black, his vest and bowtie a dark blue that accents Maria’s dress.  His hair is styled impeccably, his beard trim and neat.  He smiles widely as he leads Maria in, pausing as the room erupts in applause.

 

Maria is exquisite.  Her dress hangs in layers of flowing ivory chiffon, billowing out around her as she walks.  Layered over it is an intricate design of royal and dark blue in the shape of branches that grow in volume the closer they get to the bust, which morphs into glittering, black branches.  The dress melts away into the ends of the branches, reaching up toward her collarbone and curving over her shoulders, highlighting her soft skin.  The sleeves reach her wrists, blue and black entwining and then bursting out as they crawl up her arm.  A single black diamond rests in the hollow between her collarbones, glinting ominously.  Her dark hair falls in loose, big curls around her, the sides pulled back and pinned neatly, adding volume to the top.  Her makeup is simple, glitter catching under the light and scattered over her large eyelashes.

 

“Wow,” Sara says, and Steve nods.

 

After a space of time, Tony glances over at Maria, who smiles up at him, and he leads her in.  He looks every bit the showman tonight, standing tall, his shoulders pulled back, his grin in place, though, next to Maria, he’s arm candy.

 

The Rogers’ watch them mingle for a few moments before Sara decides she’s going to explore the first floor, and they scatter, looking around at different pieces.  Steve and Bucky are standing together, talking quietly about a few of the pieces, when Steve hears Tony’s voice, “Maria, darling.”  He turns, watching Tony lean up and kiss her cheek, “I’ll just be a moment.”

 

“Be good,” she whispers, smiling at him.

 

Steve turns back as Tony steps away, and then he’s being bumped lightly.  “Hey muscles,” Tony says, and Steve can’t help it, he’s missed him so much.

 

“Hey there, fancy pants,” Steve says, and Tony laughs loudly.

 

“What _ever_ , I’m fabulous.  How are you enjoying the gallery?”

 

Steve steps back so he can better see Tony, as well as reveal Bucky.  “It’s amazing,” Steve says, looking around, “Your mother is very talented.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, his smile getting fond, “It’s impressive how quickly she put all this together.  Have you seen the second floor?”

 

“We have,” Bucky says, and Steve stiffens a little, “It was—interesting.”

 

“We haven’t met,” Tony says, and Steve frowns when his voice goes cold.  He extends a hand, “Tony.”

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Bucky says, shaking hands with him, “Bucky.”

 

“Mhm,” Tony says before he steps back, and there’s a moment of tense silence before he says to Steve, “I feel as though I’m about to be—hello, Sonny,” he coos as Maria’s hand ghosts over his lower back, her lips dropping a kiss to his temple before she steps in next to him.

 

“Steve, you look fantastic,” she says, beaming, “Thank you so much for coming.”

 

“Thank you for inviting us,” Steve says, “You look beautiful, Maria, really.”

 

“Oh, hush you.  And this must be Bucky.  Hello, dear,” she says, “It’s so wonderful to meet you.  I’ve heard such lovely things about you.”

 

Bucky blushes at the attention.  “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Stark.”

 

Maria smiles before she turns back to Steve, “Where is your mother?  I know I saw her somewhere, but—ah!  Sara!”

 

She tugs on Tony, who flashes them a quick smile before letting Maria lead him away.  As soon as they’re gone, Steve rounds on Bucky, “What the hell?  Why did you have to say that?”

 

“Okay, it’s really creepy,” Bucky says, motioning toward the stairs, “She’s obsessed with him, and it’s kind of incestuous, alright.  I didn’t want to say anything, but then she walks in with him as her date, and like—where the hell is her husband?  Shouldn’t _he_ be doting on her and—fucking worshipping her every move?  They’re sickening.”

 

“I can’t believe you,” Steve mutters, starting to walk away, but Bucky grabs his arm, holding him there.

 

“I’m not trying to be rude,” he hisses, “It’s just—weird, Steve.  I’m sorry, but it is.  And, at the same time, I feel like I should have expected it.  Your whole family is in love with him, it makes sense that the rest of the world is, as well, but it’s a little strange just _how much_ his mother loves him.”

 

Steve shakes his head, his jaw tight.  “ _That_ is what makes it strange,” he says, pulling his arm from Bucky, “You don’t know what they’ve been through.  You don’t know what their life is like, what—what that monster is like.  There’s a fucking reason her husband isn’t here tonight.”  Steve leaves before Bucky can say anymore, seeking out his sisters.

 

The night goes on, and it’s nearing nine o’clock when he gets a text from his mom, _we’re leaving in an hour, the gallery closes at eleven.  Is everything okay with you and Bucky?_

 

Steve sighs, typing back, _yeah, it’s fine, just had a small fight._ He puts his phone away and then goes off to find Bucky.

 

On the second floor, Tony’s in the yoga room, Maria nearby talking to a few women from her debutant days, when his chest tightens, heart skipping out of rhythm and hammering against his ribs.  He gasps, one hand coming up to press against his sternum as he struggles to retain his composure, his other hand shaking as his breaths start to quicken.  His last attack was earlier in the week, and his doctor had said that he’d either be clear or have another one soon, which would classify it as a permanent arrhythmia.  He can’t go to Maria now, though, can’t ruin her night, and so he sucks in his breath and straightens, looking around.  He needs Steve.

 

Tony closes his eyes and forces out a slow breath before he walks over to Maria, touching her wrist lightly.  She turns, still laughing at something one of the women is saying.  “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, and she nods, turning back.

 

He walks out of the room as slowly as he can, sliding his hands into his pockets, and he tries to take the stairs calmly, but it feels like someone is pressing a weight against his chest, and he ends up hastening down the last half.  He can see Steve, walking around, probably trying to find Bucky, and he hurries over to him, his shoulders shaking as his breath comes harder, heavier, his throat constricting.

 

Tony grabs Steve, fingers digging into his arm, and Steve jumps, looking around at him.  “Tony, what—”

 

“I need you,” he gasps out, and he knows Steve can see it in his face.

 

“Somewhere quiet,” Steve says, already turning and taking Tony’s elbow, steadying him.  Tony nods and starts off, Steve following him.  He takes him through a back door, passes through the kitchen, out into a small hall, and then into a spacious bathroom.

 

As soon as the door is closed, he lets out a shuddering breath, staggering for the wall.  He rolls, back hitting the wall as he closes his eyes, trembling all over.  “What is it?” Steve asks, coming over to him.  Tony reaches up, fingers closing around his forearms, and he pulls Steve toward him, pushing away from the wall and pressing his forehead against Steve’s chest.

 

“Just—fuck, just— _holy fuck balls_ ,” Tony gasps, pressing harder against Steve.

 

The last one wasn’t this bad, and though this one doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the early ones, he can still feel the ache all over as his heart beats harder, faster, trying to find some control.  “It’ll pass,” Tony finally manages to get out, “It’ll pass, I just need—need to—fuck, it hurts,” he whines, slumping a little.

 

“Tony,” Steve murmurs, twisting out of his grasp and lifting his hands to Tony’s face, tipping his head away, “Just breathe with me.  It’s going to be okay.”

 

He lets his breaths be audible, and Tony holds his gaze, trying to match them to Steve’s, but they keep hitching higher, and he doesn’t have his inhaler, and his hands won’t stop shaking, and this soft, broken noise tumbles out of him as he closes his eyes, trying to find his calm.

 

“Damn it, Tony,” Steve mutters a second before he leans in, mouth pressing against Tony’s.

 

It’s nothing like their first kiss.  It’s softer, quieter, _careful_ , and Tony sucks in a breath as Steve crowds him, thumbs digging into his jaw as he traces a tongue over Tony’s bottom lip.  Tony’s breath comes rushing back out as he opens his mouth, lets Steve lick in and taste him.  One of Steve’s hands slides away from his jaw, laces up into his hair, cradling the back of his head as Tony’s fingers twist in his jacket, holding onto him.  Steve breaks to breathe, nose rubbing along Tony’s, and Tony shivers, eyelashes brushing Steve’s cheek as he looks up at him.  “Steve,” he whispers, and Steve presses them together again, kissing him slowly, easily, like they’ve always been doing this dance together.  Tony kisses back with more fervor this time, teeth scraping over Steve’s lip before he’s leaning up, trying to pull him in deeper, trying to keep him there.

 

Tony’s back hits the wall suddenly, and he lets out a quiet noise, mouth moving as Steve presses against him, grounding him.  Steve’s breath shushes out into Tony’s mouth, fills him even as he starts to pull away, and then they’re just kissing lazily until Steve’s lips ghost over Tony’s and then he leans away, foreheads touching.  “Better?” Steve asks, and Tony opens his eyes.

 

“Yeah,” he says, releasing Steve’s jacket to rub a hand against his chest, “A lot, actually.  Thank you.”

 

Steve just smiles and leans down, kissing him a last time before he steps back, shrugging one shoulder.  “Anytime, queenie.”

 

“I am not a queen,” Tony says, grin sliding into place, “I am a Khaleesi.”

 

Steve laughs, loud and clear, and Tony pushes away from the wall, going around him to the small vanity, rummaging around until he finds mouthwash.  Steve lifts an eyebrow when he sees it, and Tony rolls his eyes.  “No offense to you,” Tony says, “My mouth always tastes like acid after an attack.”  He takes a quick swig of mouthwash, spits, and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  He puts his things away before hopping up onto the counter, looking over at Steve.  “What happened to Bucky?”

 

“He’s still here,” Steve says, shrugging, “He was being an ass earlier, though.”

 

“Sorry, man.  He seems like a nice guy.”

 

“Really?” Steve says, surprised.

 

“Well, I mean— _I_ don’t like him, but that’s just because I’m an asshole, but he _seems_ nice.  My mom liked him.”

 

Steve nods, “Yeah, uh—Emma hates him, pretty much.”

 

Tony laughs softly.  “I’m sorry, Steve.  I don’t try to be awesome.”

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Tony looks over at him, grinning, and Steve shakes his head, and he tries to contain his laugh, but then Tony’s snorting, and they both fall apart, laughing openly.  “You’re such an asshole,” Steve mumbles, and that only makes Tony laugh louder.

 

When they finally quiet, Tony hops off the counter and punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.  “Come on, my mom’s gonna be panicking soon about where I went.”

 

He opens the door, and they start down the hall when Steve falls into step next to him and brushes their hands together, smiling when Tony flips his hand, letting Steve tangle their fingers together.  They go down the hall, through the kitchen, and then Tony rubs a circle in Steve’s hand with his thumb before he releases him, pushing open the door.  Steve goes off to find Bucky, and Tony makes for the stairs.

 

When he finds his mom, she’s standing in front of his ocean painting, his Christmas present, though she turns at his footsteps.  “Tony,” she says, sighing, “Where did you go?”  Tony comes over, letting her reach for him, hands circling around his hand and lifting it so she can press a kiss to his knuckles.  “Is everything okay, love?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding and stepping in close, leaning against her until Maria curls an arm around him, kissing his hair before she rests her head against his.  “I need to make another doctor appointment.”

 

“Oh, baby,” she murmurs, squeezing him, “Is that why you left?”

 

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he says, “It’s fine, it wasn’t that bad.  I found Steve, and he helped me through it.  That means it’s permanent, though.”

 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Maria says, closing her eyes, “I wish there was something I could do.”

 

Tony shifts, and Maria lifts her head.  “I’m okay,” he says, smiling softly, “Just tired now.”

 

“I forgot!” she says suddenly, lifting her back clutch.  She opens it, pulling out her phone and then his inhaler and a small baggy with his pills, and Tony laughs.

 

“Of course you did,” he says, and she just hands them over.  He throws back the pills and then gives his inhaler a good shake and then brings it to his mouth, and he sighs when he hands everything back.  “Thank you,” he says, nodding, “That actually helped a lot.”

 

“I know what I’m doing,” Maria says, putting her things away, “Come on, let’s go find something to nibble on, I’m _starving_.”  Tony laughs and nods, hooking his arm and holding it out.  Maria takes it, letting Tony lead them away.

 

——

 

Later that night, after Steve and Bucky have talked quietly, they hold hands on the ride home, and Bucky falls asleep leaning against Steve.  Tony and Maria stay until eleven thirty, and then they close up and find somewhere quiet to get a late dinner.  When they finally get home, they each shower, and Tony’s just coming out of the bathroom, scrubbing his hair dry, when Maria knocks, coming in with a movie and popcorn.  Tony laughs and nods, going to find a shirt before he climbs into bed, and, in the end, he falls asleep to Maria carding her fingers through his hair, and she just shuts off the movie, kisses his temple, and sleeps knowing her son is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is currently one am on a Saturday night, and I am six days away from graduating college, and that is terrifying. My dad and brother came up today to take most of my things back home—I go to school three and a half hours north—so right now I have white walls, very few clothes, and a tiny stack of books and movies. All that’s decorating my room right now are my prayer flags—which, okay, I have nine sets, so it’s fairly colorful in there—and my altar, but otherwise, it’s bare, and it’s freaky. I’m in this weird mindset, too, that I get in at the end of every semester, after I’ve finished my work but before I can go home, where I’m in a constant state of _oh no I need to remember to do that homework_ or _oh no did I finish that paper_ or something, and I can just never seem to remember that I’m done, I don’t have anymore work to do, but I continue to panic anyway. I’ve been trying to stamp it out by writing, which has been going amazingly. I’m about to start chapter forty of this fic, which I think is pretty exciting. I’ve got this whole week free, too, other than one final, walking practice, and then hey, commencement. Holy shit, I’m graduating from college. That’s so crazy, yo. But wait, before I go, I want to talk about the gallery! I had _so much fun writing this_. Honestly, I mean, I’m graduating with a BFA in Creative Writing and a BA in English, and I have no intention of going to grad school, but I could totally see myself going to school for event planning. I absolutely love, and have always loved, planning things, and I think it’s so much fun. The amount of time that actually went into setting up the gallery is a little bit absurd, but it was something I looked forward to for so long in this fic, and something I’m looking forward to again as I continue to write Christmas during sophomore year. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I hope it wasn’t too boring. I was over the moon excited writing about it, but I know it’s a little slow at times, so don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! I have a Howard song. I don’t like having a Howard song, but I do. I’d start listening to [House on a Hill by the Pretty Reckless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euT-a6aq4gg) fairly early into the chapter as the thing happens around when Luke comes over. And then, after the thing has happened, there’s [The Power of Love by Gabrielle Aplin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNpeK7sDLzE), which really isn’t sad if you pay attention to the lyrics, but it sounds heartbreaking, and it’s what I usually listen to when writing awful things, and it fits with pretty much everything between Maria and Tony in this chapter.
> 
> ii. This is a physical abuse warning. It’s fairly explicit, though it cuts off before it gets to the extreme stuff. It’s between Howard and Tony, and the entire chapter will be dedicated to it and the aftermath.

As it settles, so it falls.

 

Two nights after the gallery, Howard returns from his conference in a wretched mood.  He comes in late, shakes Maria awake as he’s stripping out of his clothes, and, when it’s over, she cleans up in the bathroom, trying to force down her tears, but she’s crying by the time she reaches the third floor, and she stands outside of Tony’s door for four minutes trying to calm down before she just sits on the floor, letting go.  Only when her eyes are dry and she’s soaked the collar of her shirt trying to wipe her face does she go quietly into his room and curl up on the far side of his bed, falling asleep to the soft shush of his breaths.

 

In the morning, Tony’s hand on her arm is what wakes her, and she starts to move, afraid something is wrong, but he’s looking at her like he knows, and he says, “Mom, what happened?” as his fingers flitter over her face, shaking.  Before she can respond, he pulls her against him, and she breaks.

 

They spend the day out, finding somewhere quiet to take photos before they go out for lunch, and then they’re heading to the beach, bundled up against the cold.  When they return home, it’s because Howard called to let Maria know he expects them for dinner, and they eat in silence until, as they’re finished, Howard says, “Maria, if I could speak with you after dinner, I would appreciate it.”

 

“No,” Tony says, looking over at him.

 

“Be wary of your tone, Anthony,” Howard says, not meeting his gaze.

 

“Too bad,” Tony says, and Howard looks over, furious, “We have work to do in the dark room.  Come on, mom.”  Tony gets up, and Maria pauses only a second before following him.  She takes his hand at the other end of the table, and he leads them out.

 

Much of their night is spent cooped up in the dark room, developing the many pictures they each took today until Tony’s phone is buzzing, and he goes into the separate film room, closing the door before he flicks on the light, answering it.  “Hey, what’s up?” he says, leaning against the wall.

 

“Are you busy tonight?” Luke asks, “Can I see you?”

 

“I don’t know, man.  Things are kind of rough at home right now.  I think I should stay with my mom.”

 

“Tony, please.  I really need to see you,” Luke pleads.

 

Tony sighs, looking over toward the door, where he can hear Maria bustling around.  “Okay,” he says, “What time is it?”  He checks his watch—nine o’clock.  “I can be free in an hour.  See you then?”

 

“Thank you,” Luke says, and Tony hangs up.

 

He goes back into the dark room.  Maria doesn’t look away from one of the enlargers when she says, “Luke coming over tonight?”

 

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

 

“Mhm,” she hums, and she’s quiet while she works.  Tony goes over to the other one, and, when he sits, Maria sighs, straightening.  “Sweetheart, what’s going on with you and Luke?”

 

Tony shrugs.  “I don’t really know.  We’re not really friends, but we’re not dating, either.”

 

“Great, so he’s a fuck buddy?”

“Mom, I don’t want to argue about this,” Tony sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair, “I know you don’t approve, and you know what, I don’t really, either, but—” Tony breaks off, looking away.  He’s quiet when he says, “The only person I want to be with is falling for someone else.  I don’t—I don’t even just want to have sex with him, mom.”  Tony looks back at Maria, his lower lip trembling.  “I don’t want him to just be another conquest, another—another person I can forget.  I want to—I want to hold his hand and lie next to him and be able to kiss him whenever I want and fall asleep with him and—and I just want—I just want to _be_ with him.”

 

Tony’s silent for a moment before he jerks to his feet, walking quickly across the dark room and pushing into the film room so he can leave.  As soon as he’s in the hall, he dials Luke.  “Hey babe,” Luke answers, “Is everything—”

 

“Can you come over right now?” Tony asks, trying to stamp down what’s threatening to rise up.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Luke says, and he can hear him moving, “I’ll be right there.  Twenty minutes tops.”

 

Tony hangs up on him again and goes to wait outside.  He’s shaking by the time Luke gets there, sleeves pulled over his hands, and Luke runs over to him, pulling him up.  “What are you doing out here?” he murmurs, rubbing his arms, “It’s fucking winter, Tony, don’t be an idiot, _god_.”  He herds Tony toward the door, who fumbles with the doorknob before he gets it open, and he leads the way through the foyer and toward the stairs.

 

In his room, Luke orders him into bed to warm up while he strips out of his layers until he’s in his boxers and shirt, and then he climbs in bed with Tony, pulling him close.  They lie together until Tony hums, snuggling against him and pressing a hot kiss against Luke’s throat.  He mouths up his neck, and then they’re making out, Tony shifting until he can roll Luke onto his back and press his knees on either side.  When he breaks away from their kiss, he straightens, pulling his shirt off.  “I want to ride your cock,” Tony says, and Luke groans.

 

They scramble to get naked, Luke tipping Tony onto his back, and then he finds the lube, popping the cap, but Tony takes it from him, grinning as Luke just stares at him.  He slides back on top of Luke, and he stretches himself, one hand gripping his knee.  When he pulls his fingers back out, Luke is breathing hard, and he just leans down, kissing him until he’s panting, and then he rises up onto his knees and slowly lowers himself down.

 

Luke shudders beneath him, and Tony makes a note to take control more often if it’s going to have such an effect on Luke.  He moves slowly, hips rolling in Luke’s lap as the moonlight bursts over them, and then Luke’s meeting him on each thrust, and Tony’s head drops back, a moan lilting out of him as Luke’s cock rubs over his prostate.

 

“Tony,” Luke groans, fingers digging into his thighs.

 

The door opens.

 

Tony looks over as the lights flare on, and he’s blinded momentarily, lifting an arm.  At the same time he blinks, shadows falling again so that he can see, Howard says, “Anthony.”

 

“Shit,” Tony mutters, clambering off of Luke and grabbing his pants, hauling them on.  “Get dressed,” he hisses, throwing Luke’s boxers at him.  “Dad, I—”

 

“Get out of my house,” Howard says, looking past Tony at Luke.

 

Luke nods, hurrying to pull his clothes on.  “ _Get out of my house_!” Howard roars when he doesn’t move fast enough, and Luke just scoops up his things and runs.

 

“Dad—”

 

Howard closes the distance between them in one, long stride, backhands Tony so hard he stumbles back into the bed, and _explodes_ , “I have _never_ been so ashamed in my life!”

 

Tony gasps, hand coming up to feel at his cheek, which is throbbing.  Howard’s hand darts out, closing around his throat, and Tony tries to push backward, but Howard hauls him to his feet, jerking him so that his head snaps back and forward again.  Tony groans, eyes squeezing shut against the motion.

 

“I had thought maybe, just _maybe_ , your mistakes in high school would show you how _disgusting_ pursuing a romantic life like this is!  I thought maybe you would finally see what a disgrace you are to this family, and instead, you continue to sleep with _men_!  How many times has that boy drugged you so that he could _rape_ you before you fell for his charm?  You’re as bad as your mother,” he spits, and then he throws Tony, who hits the ground with a thud, crying out.

 

Howard storms over to him, and Tony starts to scream because he knows what’s coming, but Howard’s foot comes forward too fast, and it knocks the wind from Tony, leaving him gasping.  “ _Stand up_!” Howard screams at him, reaching down and fisting a hand in Tony’s hair.  He pulls until Tony’s scrambling to stand, his head aching as he finally gets to his feet.

 

“Dad,” he pleads, flinching away when Howard releases him, “Please.”

 

“You are unworthy of my name,” Howard says, his voice dripping with revulsion.  He lifts his hand, plucking the ring from it, and Tony starts to back up, shaking.

 

“Dad,” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes, “Dad, please.  Don’t.”

 

The first punch hits his jaw, and Tony cries out, stumbling.  The second one strikes the same spot, and the third comes whistling around on the other side.  Tony falls from the fourth, which smacks against his chest.

 

“To think that I have raised a _queer_ , that I have allowed you to live under my roof while you—you let a _man_ invade you like that.  You make me nauseous, Anthony.”

 

Howard’s foot comes forward again, striking Tony’s chest, and he screams, buckling under the force of the blow.  Howard strikes the same spot twice more, his words echoing around the room, “You will _never_ see that boy again.  You will never see _any_ boy again.  You _will_ find a decent woman to marry, one that will give you children and carry on _my_ name.  If you do not—” Tony looks up as he hears Howard’s belt clink, fear sinking deep in him, “—I will remind you of your place every time.”

 

“Dad,” Tony says, pushing to his knees, “Dad, no.”

 

“Stand up,” Howard says.

 

“Dad,” Tony pleads, scooting backward.  Howard reaches down, hand tightening around Tony’s arm, nails biting into his skin.  He yanks Tony to his feet and throws him against the wall.  “ _Dad_!” Tony screams, and then the belt snaps through the air.

 

——

 

Maria is just coming out of the dark room, her hands still drying, her hair falling in her face, when she sees Howard.  She starts to turn back around, but he says, “Maria,” and it’s the way his voice sounds that stops her.  He sounds _little_ , almost—lost, even.

 

“I don’t want to fight,” she says softly, looking up at him.  He stops a few feet from her, and that’s when she notices his hands are trembling.  “Howard,” she says, stepping forward and lifting his hand.  His knuckles are coated in blood.

 

Maria’s gaze snaps up, her mouth opening as she tries to form words, pure terror flooding through her.  “No,” she says, and it’s barely a whisper.

 

“I—I didn’t—too far,” Howard says, looking at her but not seeing her, “Go help him.  Take him away from me.”

 

Maria is already running, shoulder slamming against Howard as she sprints away from him, and he stumbles, staring after her.  “ _Tony_!” she screams, tearing down the hall and into the foyer.  She takes the stairs as fast as she can, trips onto the second floor, and pushes upright, continuing on.  Tony’s door bangs open as she finally reaches the third floor, and he staggers out of his room and crashes to the floor.

 

“Tony!”

 

Maria hits the floor next to him, hands flittering over him, too afraid to touch.  There’s so much blood.  “Tony,” she whispers, finally touching his arm, rolling him over onto his back, but he cries out, jerking back onto his side.

 

He shakes his head as she starts to lean.  “Mom, don’t—don’t look,” he says hoarsely, but Maria has already seen his shredded back.

 

She looks up, not seeing, and then she steels herself, sinking back onto her heels.  She takes Tony’s face in her hands, kisses his forehead, and says, “Stay right here.”  She gets up, hurrying around him, and she packs quickly and efficiently.  She gets him enough clothes to last a few days, his meds, his tablet, a few of the books sitting on his nightstand, and then goes into his bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush.  Maria shoulders the backpack and then goes back out into the hall, carefully getting Tony to his feet.  “Come on,” she says firmly, leading him away.

 

She manages to get them down the stairs, leads him across the landing to the next set, and then sits him down.  “I’ll be right back,” she says, kissing his hair before she runs down the hall to her room, packing things for herself.

 

When the backpack is full, she shoulders it again, and she’s just leaving the room as she hears, “ _Mom_!”

 

Maria sprints down the hall, shrugging out of the backpack as she sees Howard.  “Maria,” he starts to say, but she just lets the backpack swing, clipping him in the shoulder so that he goes staggering.

 

“Get away from my son,” she growls at him before she gets Tony to his feet and hurries him down the stairs.

 

When they get outside, Tony drops away from Maria onto the porch, shaking.  “I can’t—it hurts to walk,” he says, looking up at her, “Get the car, I’ll be fine here.”

 

Maria nods, running over to where one of their many cars is parked.  Howard refuses to leave his cars outside, but Maria always thinks it’s a waste of time to go around to the garage, and so hers just remain out front.  She pulls the car over to the porch, and then gets out to help Tony in.  He curls up in the passenger seat, and Maria puts the mansion in her rearview mirror as the front door opens.

 

“Mom,” Tony whispers when they hit the highway, and she knows she shouldn’t look over, knows it’s going to break her, but she does, and all she can see is his bloody face, his blue eyes dull and shimmering with tears.  “Mom, it hurts.”

 

“I know, baby,” she says, “I know, I know.  Just a little longer, hold on.”

 

She tries to take a steadying breath as she reaches for her phone, but her control slips, and a few tears escape her eyes as she dials Sara.  They quicken the longer it takes for her to answer, and then, she’s starting to panic.  “Sara, please,” she whispers, ending the call and dialing her again.

 

This time, she picks up on the second ring.  “Maria?”

 

“I’m on my way to your house,” Maria says, and then she breaks, “Oh god, Sara.”

 

“Maria, what happened?”

 

“I can’t take him to the hospital, I can’t, they’ll ask too many questions, and—”

 

“Maria, no,” Sara says, “What did he do?”

 

“Oh god, he’s so—there’s so much—Sara, I’m so afraid.  Tony,” she whispers, looking over.

 

His eyes are closed.

 

“Tony,” Maria says, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder before she reaches over, keeping an eye on the road.  She shakes him, but he doesn’t respond.  “ _Tony_.”

 

“Maria, check if he’s breathing,” Sara says.

 

She lifts her fingers to his nose, waiting.  Maria lets out a breath when his exhale warms her fingers.  “I think he passed out,” Maria says, holding the phone with her hand again, “Sara, there was so much blood on Howard’s hands.  He—he—I think he belted him.  His back—it’s—oh god.”

 

“Maria,” Sara says, her voice tight, “Hang up.  Pay attention.  Get here safely.  I’ll be ready.  I’m hanging up.”

 

“Thank you,” Maria whispers, and then the line goes dead.

 

——

 

Sara paces back and forth, from living room to kitchen, through the hallway, after she’s got her med kit downstairs, waiting, waiting, waiting.  She calls Steve three times before giving up—he’s out with Bucky, and he said they’d be home relatively early.  The girls are sleeping, and Joe is upstairs cleaning out the guest bedroom.  And she keeps pacing.

 

Finally, a pair of headlights pull up in the driveway, and Sara runs to the door, yanking it open.  “Steve,” she sighs when she recognizes her car, and then another car pulls up behind it.

 

Steve gets out of the car, Bucky following as Sara runs down the steps, past them.  “Help me!” she calls over her shoulder, and Steve immediately turns around, following her.  “Where is he?” she asks as Maria gets out.

 

“Passenger side.”

 

Sara goes around, pulling open the door and checking over for any serious injuries before she waves Steve over.  “Take him into the house, _carefully_.  Bucky, can you help?”

 

“Mom, what’s going on?” Steve says as he comes around, and then he sees Tony.  “Oh my god, is he okay?  Tony?”

 

Bucky gapes, unbelieving.  Only days ago, he’d seen this woman and her son, as beautiful as could be, and now, Maria is here in a loose shirt with her hair tied messily in a bun, her face streaked with tears, bruises scattered over the side of her face, and Tony is lying unconscious in the car, _beaten_.  He understands, suddenly.

 

Steve carefully gathers Tony in his arms, shifting until he can get him close, and Tony jerks awake when his back rubs against Steve.  He whimpers, trying to turn away, and Steve whispers his name, thumb rubbing over his skin, “Tony.  It’s okay.  You’re safe.”

 

“Steve?” he mumbles, looking up at him.

 

“I’m gonna take you inside.  It’s okay,” he adds when Tony whines again, arching away from him.

 

“His back is—it’s—” Maria breaks off, but Steve understands anyway.  He pulls Tony close and then stands, blocking out his soft cry of pain.  Bucky reaches in after him, grabbing the backpack, and then he closes the door, following Steve up to the house.

 

Sara has already set up a place in the living room, and Steve hurries over, lowering onto the sofa before he carefully deposits Tony next to him.  Tony shudders, leaning against him, his chest rising and falling in hitched, painful movements.  “Maria,” Steve says, looking up, “Do you have his inhaler?”

 

She nods, looking around, and then Bucky appears with the backpack.  “Thank you, Bucky,” she says, taking it from him.  She kneels, rifling through it as Bucky waves, catching Steve’s attention.

 

“I’m gonna go,” he says, and Steve nods.

 

“I’ll call you.  Thank you,” Steve says.  Bucky just smiles tightly and leaves.

 

Maria comes over when she finds it, sitting on Tony’s other side, and he goes to her immediately, pushing away from Steve.  “Mamma,” he says brokenly, and Steve sucks in a breath.

  
“I’m here, baby,” Maria coos, pushing his hair back from his face before she’s shaking his inhaler.  She lifts it to his mouth, and Tony sighs when he exhales next.  “You’re going to be okay,” Maria whispers, kissing his forehead.

 

“Non voglio tornare indietro.  **(I don’t want to go back.)** ” Tony mumbles, and Maria just nods, pulling him closer, and Steve looks away when she closes her eyes, tears slipping down her face.

 

“Maria,” Sara says, coming over.

 

“Sara sta per pulirti, va bene?   **(Sara’s going to clean you up, okay?)** ” Maria says.

 

Tony nods, pulling himself up, and then, Sara takes over.

 

——

 

Much later, after they’ve gotten Tony upstairs and asleep, Sara demands Maria sit for her while she looks over her face.  “When did he do this?” she asks, tilting Maria’s face into the light.

 

“The night before,” Maria says softly, “It’s fine, Sara.”

 

“It’s not,” Sara says sharply, “Maria, this is—” Sara breaks off, sighing, “I’m sorry, it’s not my place.”

 

Maria pulls back until she can see Sara.  “It is,” she says, “I consider you a very close friend, Sara.  I don’t have many friends that aren’t introduced to me by Howard, and I want you to be able to be honest with me.  If something is bothering you, please tell me.  I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Sara sighs again, taking Maria’s hand.  “You won’t,” she says, “I promise.  Just—just try to be safe.”  Maria nods, and Sara goes back to her face.  She cleans her up a little, checks one of the bruises on her neck, and then leans back, nodding.  “They’ll fade with time.”  They sit in silence for a few moments before Sara takes a deep breath and says, “I want you to know that I respect you very much, and I think you’re incredibly strong for weathering your husband through these years.  However, I don’t think you should go back there.”

 

“I don’t want to,” Maria admits, “I have nowhere to go, though, and—”

 

“Stay here,” Sara says, “Please.  We have a guest room, and you’re more than welcome to use it until you feel like either going back or finding somewhere new.”

 

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

 

“You aren’t.  I won’t take no for an answer.  We’ll go back to the mansion to get Tony’s things and some of yours, and you’ll stay here.  Okay?”

 

Maria nods, smiling lightly.  “Okay.  Thank you, Sara, for everything.  I don’t know what I would have done tonight without you.”

 

“Of course.  I’m going to go put on a pot of tea.  Would you like a cup?”

 

“Please,” Maria says, “In the meantime, I’m going to go check on Tony.”

 

They part ways in the hallway, Sara going into the kitchen while Maria goes upstairs.  She walks down the hall slowly, trying to think of anything but what she’ll find in Steve’s room.  She thinks of Tony when he was seven, when he built his first prototype robot, how proud she’d been, but then she remembers Howard, coolly pleased.  Maria sighs as she reaches the door, lifting a hand to knock before she opens it.

 

The shower is on, and so Steve isn’t in the room, and she comes inside, going over to the bed, where Tony is facing away from her, lying on his side.  She sits next to him, carefully brushing her fingers through his hair, staring down at his sleeping face.  “I’m sorry, my love,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss his cheek and then his temple.  “I’m so sorry.”  She leans her head against his shoulder, just looking at him, trying to memorize the soft curve of his mouth, the round edge of his nose, the quiet flutter of his eyelashes against his skin.

 

Maria rests a hand on his head, her other hand coming around to rub over his chest, wondering if he’s in pain there, as well.  “I swear to you, I will never let him touch you again,” she says, hand settling so that only her thumb is rubbing over his cotton chest, “I will keep you safe, I promise.”

 

Maria remains until the shower turns off, and then she closes her eyes, focusing on Tony’s breathing, letting it thrum through her until she feels calm again.

 

“Oh,” Steve says suddenly, and she looks over, smiling.  “I can leave,” he says even as he goes over to his dresser, looking for a shirt.

 

“No, it’s fine,” Maria says, kissing Tony’s cheek again, and then his shoulder as she straightens.  “Thank you for letting him stay in your room,” she says, running a hand over his arm.

 

“Absolutely,” Steve says, nodding, “Is he okay?”

 

“He’s asleep,” Maria says, looking back at him, “That’s all that matters for now.”  Maria continues to sit there, and she doesn’t want to leave him, wants to curl up with him and keep him safe, but she knows she needs to, and so she sighs, standing.  “I should go back downstairs.”  She starts to leave, but she stops, turning to Steve.  “I know you’re trying to move on, and Bucky seems like a wonderful young man, so if it’s difficult for you to have Tony in the same room, please let me know.  I have no problem sharing the guest room with my son.”  Steve nods, finding that he can’t seem to speak, and Maria just smiles before she leaves.

 

Steve looks over when she’s gone, just staring at the curve of Tony’s shoulder, trying to decide what his next move should be.  He hadn’t quite realized what would happen given the opportunity to choose between Tony and Bucky, and though the circumstances were extreme tonight, he can’t help wondering if he’s always going to choose Tony.

 

Sighing, Steve goes over to his bed and sits cautiously on the edge.  Tony doesn’t stir, and he stares at him for a few, long moments.  He feels like something is changing between them, feels like it’s not going to be the same as it was first semester when they go back after break, feels like _they’re_ going to be different, and it scares him.  In only four months, Tony has managed to worm his way so far under Steve’s skin that he considers him one of his closest friends, and he’s not sure how he did it, how he made Steve feel like he couldn’t quite carry on without Tony.  He hadn’t realized just how much he missed just being near him until, suddenly, it was Tony lying in his bed instead of Bucky.  And he likes Bucky, he does, but there’s this kind of unspoken magnetism between he and Tony, something he’s not sure he could explain to anyone, but he feels lighter, happier even, just being in the same vicinity as him, even if he’s asleep.

 

He thinks, if it came down to it, he’d always end up picking Tony because he’s more than someone he’s sexually attracted to, he’s an intelligent, intriguing, and infuriating person, and he never fails to make Steve laugh so hard that he aches all over, to make him so angry he wants to throw a fucking _chair_ at him, to make him not care about any of it because simply being with Tony is like catastrophic ecstasy.

 

“You know,” Steve says, shaking his head before he pulls the blankets back and slides under.  He scoots over until there’s only a breath of space between them, and then he sighs, leaning his head forward so it rests against the nape of Tony’s neck.  “I wish you understood.”

 

After a moment, Steve lifts his head again and shifts closer until Tony’s body fits in the curve of his.  He loops an arm around him, nose running up the line of his neck and coming to rest at the back of his hair as his hand settles against his chest.  He falls asleep like this, keeping his best friend safe.

 

——

 

When morning dawns, the room is awash in a warm, golden glow.  Tony is still asleep, but he’s shifted in the night, and he reminds Steve of a little boy right now, hands balled up between them, forehead pressed against Steve’s chest, and knees drawn up.

 

Steve reaches down, fingers carding through Tony’s hair, thumbs swiping over his sore, bruised skin.  His face is a mottled mess, black and blue scattered over his jaw and up the left side of his face, disappearing beneath his hair.  Steve thinks of his chest, though.  It had been a raw, red color last night, but Sara had noted where the bruise was already starting to form, and he tries not to think of what that means.

 

Steve sighs, leaning down to bury his nose in Tony’s hair.  He wants to hold this moment against him and never let it go.

 

Tony stirs, fingers unfolding and skidding along Steve’s shirt.  He can feel his fear in the thrum of his heart, and so Steve shifts away enough that Tony can see him.  “Hey,” Steve whispers, trying for a smile, but Tony’s expression is so deeply confused and uncertain that he feels more afraid than relieved to see him awake.

 

“Where am I?” Tony asks, his voice cracking.  His eyes dart around, too quick, and Steve sees it happening like a train wreck.  “Why am I here?” Tony demands, blue eyes flicking back to Steve as tears well up and spill over.  “Where’s my mom?  _Steve_ ,” he gasps, and then he’s shattering apart.

 

A terrible noise is pulled from as he ducks his head, a sob shuddering through him.  Steve reaches for him immediately, folding him away as Tony cries, but it’s too much, and he doesn’t know how to weather this storm.

 

His whole body shakes, his breaths skipping out of control as these high, terrifying noises continue to escape him.  He’s hysterical, Steve realizes, and he doesn’t know how to help him.

 

“Tony,” he says at the same time the door opens.

 

Steve looks over, relief flooding through him when he sees Maria.  He hurries to extract himself from Tony and get out of the bed, and then Maria’s taking over, and he’s left mesmerized.

 

She drops onto the bed, pulling Tony up and toward her, and he just goes, slumping against his mother as she winds her arms tightly around him.  “Mom, he—he—”

 

“I know, baby,” Maria shushes him, rubbing his back with one hand, the other coming up to cradle his head, “I know.  You’re safe now.  I won’t let him hurt you, I promise.  I’m here, love.”

 

“ _Mom_ ,” Tony gasps, the word barely discernible through his heaving sobs.

 

“I know, love, I know.  Hush now, you’re okay.”

 

Steve realizes, suddenly, that she’s done this before, many, many times, and her voice alone starts to calm Tony.  “Anchor yourself, Tony,” Maria whispers, turning her wrist so that her hand tilts his head up.  She leans their foreheads together, holding Tony’s frightened gaze.  “You’re okay, Tony.  I’m here.  You’re safe, I promise.  I’m here.  Anchor yourself.”

 

Tony’s hands come up, shaking, and Maria kisses his temple when his fingers curl around her arms.  “There you go,” she murmurs, “Find your calm.  You’re okay.  Listen to me, love.”

 

Tony slows his breaths until they match Maria’s, a soft lullaby contained between them.  Maria holds him like something fragile, and when she looks into his blue eyes, she smiles.  Though he may look astonishingly like Howard, she never fails to see _her_ son when she looks at him.

 

“Hey,” Maria says softly, “There you are.”

 

One of her thumbs comes up to swipe over his wet cheek, and then she’s tipping up to press her lips to his forehead in a lingering kiss.  “Mom,” Tony mumbles, and she releases him so he can burrow against her.

 

“Do you want to come lie down with me?”  Tony nods, and Maria just strokes his hair back and kisses his head.  “You have to walk.  You might be too heavy for me to carry anymore.”

  
“Okay.”

 

Tony sits, and Maria sighs, thumbing the shadows under his eyes.  “Oh, Tony.”  His lip trembles as he looks at her, but Maria taps his nose.  “None of that.  Take a deep breath.  Seven exhales, and focus on each chakra.”

 

Maria gets up, going over to his backpack, and Tony’s gaze follows her as she moves, his breaths filling the room.  When she returns to collect him, Tony unfolds from the bed, taking Maria’s hand.  She stops by the door, shooing him out.  “Go on.  I’ll be right there.”  Tony lingers, staring at her, so Maria lifts their hands, kissing his knuckles.  “I love you, Tony,” she whispers, giving him the strength to walk away.  He does, and then Maria turns to Steve, who is pretending to be busy straightening his bed.  “I’m sorry,” Maria says, and Steve turns, frowning.

 

“What for?”

 

“I don’t want you to think any less of him.  He’s a little broken, but he’ll be Tony again soon.  He always is.”

 

Steve shakes his head.  “He still is Tony.  He just needs a little help, and I have no problem giving that to him.  He’s my best friend, Maria.”  Steve shrugs one shoulder.  “He hasn’t managed to push me away yet, so I doubt he ever will.”

 

“He’s lucky to have you,” Maria says with a fond smile.

 

She starts to turn when Steve says, “And you.  He’d be lost without you.”

 

Maria lingers a moment longer, but then she hears the guest room door open, and she leaves for her son.

 

——

 

The house is empty.

 

The girls are at school, Joe is at work, Sara is food shopping, and Steve doesn’t know what to do.  He does an hour of yoga, tries reading, goes downstairs to watch TV so the noise won’t bother Maria and Tony, and then, after that doesn’t work to distract him, he finally calls Bucky.

 

“Hey,” Bucky answers softly, “How’s everything?”

“Better,” Steve says, “I’m sorry about last night.  I didn’t mean to blow you off like that.  I didn’t know that we’d be coming home to that, and—”

 

“Steve, it’s fine.  He’s your friend, I get it.  How’s he doing?”

 

“He’s upstairs with his mom right now.  I don’t know how to help him,” he admits.

 

“You might not be able to,” Bucky says, “He might just need his mother.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, shifting until he can pull his legs up onto the sofa, “I guess.  I just feel kind of useless right now.”

 

“I’m sorry, Steve.  I don’t know what to tell you.”

 

They sit in silence for a few moments before Steve sighs again and says, “We didn’t even get to spend any time together last night outside of the movie.”

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky says, but it’s not.

 

“Are you busy right now?” Steve asks, and he knows he sounds too hopeful.

 

“Steve, you’ve got a lot going on at your house right now, I don’t want to intrude,” Bucky says, sighing.

 

“I want to see you,” Steve says, “I—”

 

“Do you?” Bucky challenges, and Steve frowns, pushing upright.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks.

 

“Do you actually, or are you just bored because your plaything is busy?”

 

“What?”

 

“I just—nothing, I have to go,” and then he hangs up, and Steve stares at his phone in disbelief.

 

He starts to put it down, thinking about what Bucky said, but that just infuriates him, and he dials him again, waiting.  When he answers, Steve doesn’t give him time to say anything before he erupts, “That was really fucking shitty of you.  He is my _best friend_ , and he was just _beaten_ by his _father_ , of course I’m going to be thinking about him!  I get it, though, okay?  I know why you don’t like him, and it’s reasonable, it is, but don’t be a dick about it!  I really like you, Bucky and I want to continue seeing you, see where this progresses, but you have to know that Tony is party of the deal.  Even after only a few months, he is one of the greatest friends I have ever had, and you can’t just expect me to drop him because you don’t like him.”

 

“Oh my _god_ , Steve, it’s not just because I don’t like him, it’s because _you’re in love with him_!”  Steve takes a deep breath, keeping it quiet, while he waits for Bucky to calm.  “I’m sorry,” Bucky says after a moment.

 

“If I was in love with him, I would be pursuing a relationship with him, not you.”

 

“ _Are_ you pursuing a relationship with me?” Bucky asks softly.  Steve knows the answer, knows what he has to say, but it still hurts.  “I didn’t think so,” Bucky says after a space of silence, “I understand.  I know that you’re still figuring things out, that you want time to experiment at school and see how things go, but I don’t want to just be the person you occasionally remember to text and sometimes feel guilty about.  I think—I think we should stop whatever is going on, for now.  I want a future with you, Steve, but I don’t think it’s going to happen right now.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve says, fear trickling through him.  This is not how he expected his morning was going to go.

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky says, “I understand, I do.  I still want to be friends, and I want to talk to you, but I think we should both be free to do whatever needs to be done this semester.  Come find me when you’re ready.”

 

“Bucky, don’t do this.  Please.”

 

“Steve,” he sighs, “I’m trying to leave this on a good note.  I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” Steve says softly, sinking back into the sofa, “I’m going to miss you.”

 

“I’ll be right here,” Bucky says, and Steve can hear the small smile in his voice, “Don’t worry, we’ll still talk, we’ll just be friends only.  It’s okay.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Positive.  Have a good rest of break, Steve.”

 

“Yeah, you too, Bucky.  I’ll talk to you soon, hopefully.”

 

“Goodbye,” Bucky says, and then he hangs up again.

 

Steve sits there, phone sitting in his lap, just staring at the wall, for a few minutes before he sighs and gets up, going back upstairs to change into something warm before he heads outside for a run.

 

——

 

Tony shifts, pressing a little closer to Maria.  She’s sitting in the bed, legs folded underneath her, Tony’s head pillowed in her lap.  “Stop moving,” she mumbles, frowning at her sketchpad.

 

“What are you drawing?” he asks, looking up at her.

 

“You.  It’s always you.”

 

Tony hums, closing his eyes.  “I’m tired,” he says quietly.

 

“I know, darling.  Go to sleep,” Maria says, reaching down to stroke a hand over his face.

 

“I can’t.”  Maria pauses, looking away from her drawing and down to Tony.  “Every time I close my eyes, I hear the belt.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“Mom, that wasn’t the first time.”

 

“What?”  Maria doesn’t mean to jostle him, but Tony whines, reaching up to push her sketchpad away before he pulls himself upright, rubbing his head.  “What do you mean?” she demands, staring at him in horror.

 

“That wasn’t the first time he’s belted me,” he says, looking down at the bed.

 

Maria reaches forward, fingers curling around his jaw and tilting his gaze back up to her.  “Talk to me,” she pleads.

 

“He only does it when it’s worse, when I deserve it, and—”

 

“No,” Maria cuts him off, taking her hand back, “Don’t you dare.”

 

“Mom—”

 

“You _never_ deserve to be hit.  You deserve to be loved, to be cared for, to be cherished.  You are a gift to us, Tony.  I never thought I’d find happiness in that house, and then I had you, and my entire life changed.  You are my _son_ , Tony, and I love you, and you can _never_ let him brainwash you into believing that you _deserve_ to be hit.  Discipline is one thing; abuse is another thing entirely.  You are a beautiful young man.  Do you understand me?”

 

“Sometimes I understand it, though, mom.  Like this time, I was—he walked in on me and Luke, mom.  Of course he was going to be angry.”

 

“He wasn’t angry, Tony, he was out of control.  He was _irrational_.  I’ve walked in on you and Luke before, but have I ever raised a hand to you?”

 

“No,” Tony says, frowning deeply, “Why would you?  You don’t care about how we appear to other people.  It doesn’t matter to you what the rest of the world thinks.”  Tony shrugs.

 

Maria shakes her head slowly, closing her eyes.  “Tony,” she whispers, hand coming up to cover her mouth as tears prick hotly at her eyes.  She can’t cry, not in front of him, not after everything.  “Why does that make it okay?” she asks, not looking at him.

 

“Mom, it’s okay, it’s just—”

 

“It is _not_ okay!” she yells, gaze snapping up to him.  Tony flinches back, and Maria instantly reaches for him.  Tony pauses, but then Maria’s hand lands on his arm, and he goes to her, settling against her as she draws his head to her chest, holding onto him.  “Don’t hide from me,” she whispers, pressing her face into his hair, “Please don’t hide from me.”

 

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Tony murmurs, taking one of her hands and tangling their fingers together, “You have enough going on, you don’t need to worry about what he’s doing to me.”

 

“You are my _world_ , Tony,” Maria says, “I just want you to be safe, to be happy, to be who you are no matter what.  I want you to know that I support you in everything, and I will always love you, but I need you to be honest with me, I need you to tell me what’s going on.  I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

 

Tony pushes away from her, and he shifts until he’s sitting opposite her, their knees touching.  He takes her other hand and holds both of hers with his.  “Then do the same for me,” he says, holding her gaze, “Come to me when he hurts you, and I’ll protect you.”

 

“Tony,” Maria tries, looking away.

 

“No, mom,” he says, squeezing her hands, “We need to keep each other safe.  I need you, mom.  I am who I am because of you, and I need you to stay with me.  I love you.”

 

After a moment, Maria nods and leans forward, reaching up to kiss his forehead.  “Let me finish drawing you,” she says softly, and Tony nods, settling again.  Maria is quiet for a while, the scratch of her pencil the only sound in the room, until she says, “You were speaking in Italian last night.”

 

“Was I?” Tony asks, his voice soft and sleepy, “I don’t remember.”

 

“I haven’t heard it in a long time,” Maria says, reaching forward to card her fingers lightly through his hair.

 

Tony shrugs one shoulder.  “Dad doesn’t like when I speak it.”

 

“Do you remember how much you hated learning English?” Maria says, smiling, “God, you were such a brat.”

 

“Italian is so beautiful.  We should have just moved to Italy with Aunt Rosalie, and you should have never taught me English, and I’d have been a brown little baby running around butt naked on a private beach—” Maria erupts in laughter as he speaks, “—shouting, _Mamma, il pesce, il pesce! Voglio mangiare il pesce!_   **(The fish, the fish!  I want to eat the fish!)** and you would have said—”

 

“L'acqua salata ti fa male al pancino.  Basta berla!  **(Salt water makes your tummy hurt.  Stop drinking it!)** ” Maria finishes, smiling widely, “You were _always_ trying to drink the ocean.”

 

“I wanted to be a fish,” Tony says, looking up at her, and Maria just shakes her head and leans down, her hair falling around them as she presses a kiss to his forehead.

 

“I miss when you were little, when all we did was cook and dance play.  I miss singing lullabies and reading stories, and not a lick of it was in English.”

 

“Fuck dad, then.”

 

“Antonio,” she says sharply, kissing his forehead again, “Niente di tutto ciò.  **(None of that.)** ”

 

“No, I’m serious,” Tony says, lifting a hand to thread it through her hair, holding her there, “I miss the way it was between me and you.  I want that back.”

 

“Bambino,” she coos.

 

“Mamma, no!” he exclaims, and Maria straightens, laughing.

 

“Such a brat,” she says, and Tony just closes his eyes, waiting for Maria’s attention to return to her drawing before he lets himself drift off, and he sleeps easily.

 

——

 

Later that day, around dinner, there’s a knock on the door while Maria is in the shower.  Tony starts to get up to answer it, but then the door opens, admitting Emma.  “Hey Emmie bean,” he says, waving.

 

“Hi Tony,” Emma says, carefully closing the door before she comes over and climbs up onto the bed.  She sits down opposite him, and he dog ears the page of his book, putting it down.

 

“Why are you frowning, cutie?” Tony teases, reaching forward and turning her mouth up.

 

“Stop,” Emma mumbles, swatting his hands away, “I’m frowning because I’m sad.”

 

“Being sad is no fun.  Why would you do that?”

 

“Tony,” Emma sighs, and he rolls his eyes.

 

“Fine, I’ll bite.  What’s up?”

 

“Mommy said you were in an accident and you were hurt really bad.”

 

Tony shrugs one shoulder.  He knows that Sara told the girls that he and his mom were in a car accident, and though it hurts that she has to lie to them, he understands why.  “I’ll be okay, monkey,” he says, tapping her nose, “Don’t worry about me.”

  
“Am I allowed to hug you?” she asks.

 

“Of course you are,” Tony says, smiling softly, “Just be careful.  I have a bruise right here.”  He draws a circle around his chest, and Emma nods before clambering over to him and looping her arms around his neck.  Tony hugs her back, waiting until she starts to move away before he releases her.  “How was school today?” he asks.

 

“Fun!” Emma exclaims, brightening, “I got a really good grade on my long division test today.”

 

“You know long division?” Tony gasps, “Emmie, _woah_!”

 

“Stop it,” she whines, though she’s smiling.  Tony reaches forward to tickle her, and she squeals, scrambling away from him.

 

“Are you being mean to my favorite little eight-year-old?” Maria accuses as she comes back into the room, toweling her hair dry.

 

“Yes!” Emma shouts at the same time Tony gasps, “No!”

 

Maria smiles, coming over, and Tony tilts his head up, smiling wickedly.  Maria just laughs and drops a kiss on his cheek before rumpling Emma’s hair.  “Is dinner ready, Emma?” Maria asks.

 

“I can go check!” she shrieks, rolling off the bed and running for the door.  She pulls it open, and then pauses, looking back.  “I’m glad you’re okay, Tony,” she says, and he smiles as she leaves.

                                               

“Oh, look!” Maria teases, pinching his cheek.

 

“Mamma,” he whines, pushing her away.

 

“ _Tony_ ,” she whines right back, pinching his cheek again and then darting her other hand up to tickle, and he starts yelling, pushing at her even as he tries to squirm away.  “Oh, what’s this!” Maria exclaims, following him, fingers darting over him, and Tony keeps yelling, laughter sneaking in as he tries to escape her.

 

Finally, Maria draws back, and Tony collapses onto the bed, groaning.  “You’re evil,” he mutters, glaring at her.

 

“Liars get pinched,” she warns, and before Tony can flip over, she pinches his butt, and he squeaks.  Maria laughs loudly, going over to the dresser.  “You sound like a mouse,” she says, and Tony makes an elephant noise in protest, and then Maria can’t find her clothes because she’s laughing too hard, so Tony just folds his arms under his head and grins, a job well done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, what a chapter. So we’ve got a lot going on. First, I want to address the Italian. I’m sorry if it’s off, it’s been a _very_ long time since I last studied it. I took four years of it in high school and continued to speak it fairly frequently when I got to college, and I took French in college, so it helped keep it fresh, but still, it’s been a while. I do have reasons for it, though. I can’t tell you the whole story, but I’m working on something for this fic, something that’s kind of an aside. It’s really, really cool, and I’m having so much fun with it, but I don’t want to say anything and jinx it, so you guys won’t be getting all the details for some time now. However, I can tell you a little.
> 
> I’ve recently discovered some things about Tony’s youth in my work on this other thing, and here’s the deal. Maria and her sister Rosalie—I think you guys met her, she’s on the phone during Thanksgiving, right? If not, oh well, not a big spoiler—were born and raised in Italy, though not long enough for Maria to develop an accent. However, she decided to raise Tony in a dual language home, and his first language was Italian. He didn’t learn English until later, when Howard demanded it because he would be attending school soon and would need to be able to communicate. And so, Tony and Maria used to speak in Italian all the time, and I have all these absolutely adorable scenes in my head about them in Italy being the cutest mother and son of all time. That said, don’t worry, it’s not going to completely take over. While I think it’s easily the most beautiful language in the world, with French coming in at a close second, I’m not going to bombard you with it, and like you’ve seen, there will be translations to follow it every time. For me, however, this is a lot of fun, and I’ve really been enjoying speaking in it. Though this does mean that I have to go through the chapters you guys haven’t read yet and see where I can spice things up a little when Tony and Maria are talking to each other, seeing as these ideas have mostly been forming today.
> 
> Hey, let’s talk about today. So, Erin and I are in our last week of college, and we’ve been going on these things that we’ve officially dubbed _the ambiguously gay duo adventures_ from this comic I saw recently. Disclaimer, no, we’re not girlfriends, she’s engaged and won’t let me smooch her, though my sister keeps telling me I’m not allowed to come home from college unless I’ve had an experience with the same sex. I don’t know, she’s strange. Anyway, we’ve been documenting it through videos and pictures, all of which are on Tumblr right now under [this](http://sleeponrooftops.tumblr.com/tagged/the-ambiguously-gay-duo-adventures) tag, and it’s been really fun. So, that’s just a little get to know the author thing. When we’re separated by the vast wilderness of Maine and Massachusetts—six hours is going to suck—we’re also going to be doing something that we’re calling _long distance dialogue_ , which will be vlogs, but I’m not getting into that now because we’re going to save that surprise until later.
> 
>  _Anyway_ , jeez, this author’s note is long, I’m sorry, I just have a lot to say. Um, hi. Yeah. Sorry about that. I know you’ve all been feeling weird about Howard, and I think a lot of you knew this was coming. It’s kind of weird, though, because where I am in writing, Howard’s pretty chill right now, but you’re probably all about to deliver some serious hate in the comments toward him—which is totally justified, I was pulling my hair out during this part, I was so furious with him—so I have to keep reminding myself what’s going on.
> 
> Okay, I’m really going to stop rambling now. I hope everyone is having a lovely week, and if it’s warm where you are like it’s been here recently, I hope you’re outside in the sun having a grand old time. I have my sign language final tomorrow, which I’m kind of nervous about, but also not, but also really sad that it’s the last time I’ll ever be signing with my class—Erin and I are totally going to do some of the vlogs in sign and skype in sign and never do anything else but sign because it’s _so fun_ —so that’s something to look forward to. Also, hey, early chapter. You can thank the lovely Made of Glass for convincing me to put this up a day early. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! This is probably one of my favorite party chapters. My favorite one is way later, at Johnny’s place—guess what, you’re going to meet him soon, I’M SO EXCITED—but this one is pretty freaking awesome, and so, I’ve got some songs for you. First off, [Savages by Breathe Carolina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zs0tY2CgFM) because that shit is epic, and then probably [C’mon by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Rwwqqc5Gk4) because whey the hell not, and ending with [Supernatural by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yUNY2Scnh1Q) for Steve’s hook-up—whoops, spoilers.

They go back to school Sunday morning.  Maria offers to drive, but Sara demands she come along because then she and Maria can take their boys out to lunch, so they pile into the Rogers’ SUV.  Maria and Sara went back to the mansion on Friday during the day while Howard was at work, and now, Maria has been officially moved into the guest room.

 

They get to the school around eleven, and, after they’ve gotten the boys settled in, they find somewhere nearby to eat, and, when they eventually get back to the school, it’s around one.  Sara says goodbye to Tony first while Maria embraces Steve, and then they switch.  Maria cradles Tony’s face in her hands, smiling softly.  “I love you,” she says, and he nods.

 

“I know.  I love you, too.”

 

“Be good, darling.  Call me if you need anything.  _Call me_ if he comes here.  Call the police.  Do whatever you have to do.”

 

“You too.  If he comes to the house, don’t let him in.  Don’t let him sway you to come back until you’re ready.  Be safe, mamma.”

 

Maria leans forward, kissing his forehead first before she pulls him against her, hugging him tightly.  “I’ll miss you, Cher.”

 

“Call me when you get home,” Tony mumbles, snuggling close and closing his eyes, “I’m going to miss you so much, mamma.”

 

They remain a few moments longer before Maria pulls back, nodding.  “We’ll be okay,” she says, tapping his nose, and Tony smiles.

 

“Yeah.  Seasoned warriors over here.”  He dusts off his shoulder, and Maria laughs.  She kisses him a last time before she leaves, and then it’s just left to Steve and Tony.  “Hey,” Tony says, digging out his yoga mat, “Do yoga with me.”

 

“You sure?” Steve asks, and Tony nods, smiling.

 

“Yeah, I haven’t been able to do it in forever, and I need to stretch out.  I’m just gonna, uh—I’ll be right back, I’m gonna change.”  He grabs his yoga clothes and then leaves, and Steve watches him, frowning.  He’s never left the room to change before and he wonders if it’s because of what he looks like now.

 

When Tony gets back, he’s already got his mat out, in his yoga clothes, and stretching, so Tony drops down opposite him, his pants longer, coming down to his knees, and though Steve wants to ask, he doesn’t.  After they’ve finished stretching, they slowly work through their old routine, and it takes longer than usual, Tony having difficulty with some of the poses.  They make it through everything, though, and then Tony’s demanding they do stand practice.  They’re both unbalanced and keep falling, though Tony makes sure to tip back onto his toes every time, mindful of his back.  When they can’t seem to get straight for longer than a few seconds, Tony moves his mat over to the wall, and they work on strengthening their cores, just holding poses against the wall for minutes at a time until they’re feeling more balanced.

 

Tony’s just moving away from the wall a little to try a scorpion when there’s a knock on the door.  “Come in!” Steve calls, spotting Tony.  The door opens, admitting Betty and Bruce, and Steve glances at them and then back at Tony, freezes, and looks back.  “Bruce,” he says, starting to stand, but Betty shakes her head.

 

“Hey guys,” she says, herding Bruce into the room.  Steve tries not to stare, but Bruce’s face looks much like Tony’s, though there’s a creeping bruise that drifts down beneath the collar of his shirt.  “Doing yoga already?” Betty asks, going over to drop onto Tony’s bed, Bruce following her.

 

“Hey!” Tony exclaims suddenly, rolling out a little so he can see Bruce, “Bet you mine are worse.”

 

“Not a chance,” Bruce says, rolling his eyes, “You see this shit?”  He tilts his head up, revealing five identical bruises that look like fingerprints.

 

Steve looks between them, bewildered.

 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Tony says, carefully dropping out of scorpion.  He lifts up the front of his shirt, facing away so they won’t see his back, but it reveals the angry, stretching bruise across his chest.  “Went old school this time, too.  Fucking belts, man.”

 

Steve gapes.  Betty looks down at her lap.

 

“Dude, belts are _nothing_ ,” Bruce says, shaking his head, “Bottles are where it’s at.”  Bruce tugs the shoulder of his sleeve down, revealing a wicked, raised, pink scar that curves down around to his back.  “Steel toe?” he asks, letting his shirt slip back up.

 

“Nah, too busy raging,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder before he turns again, getting into a downward dog.  He shifts until he’s comfortable, and then kicks up into a handstand.  “Was it at least good alcohol?”

 

“Most expensive fucking whiskey he’s ever bought—celebrating Christmas, man.”

 

“Jesus, that’s awesome,” Tony mutters, shaking his head, “At least yours are fading now.”

 

“When was yours, after the gallery?  At least you got to go to that,” Bruce says.

 

“Okay, what the fuck?” Steve interrupts, absolutely horrified.

 

“What?” Tony and Bruce say at the same time.

 

Betty lifts her head, glaring at each of them in turn.  “Little bit far, boys,” she says, and Steve turns his expression to her.

 

“A little bit far?” he repeats, “Betty, they’re—you’re—why the hell are you pretending like nothing fucking _happened_?”

 

“It’s a laugh or you’ll cry situation, Steve,” Bruce says, shrugging.

 

“Abusive daddies, they’re all the rage this generation,” Tony mutters.

 

Steve just sits there, disbelieving.  He can’t understand how they’re so lackadaisical about it, but, at the same time, he gets it.  Tony’s already done the crying, and now he’s laughing it off, showing his friends what happened without having to care so that they can move on past it.  And so, though he wants to press the subject, he swallows his anger down and lets Betty change the subject.

 

——

 

That night, after dinner, Tony has a short, clipped conversation with Luke on the phone, and Steve starts to ask him if everything’s okay when Tony says, “Hey, do you mind if Luke comes over for a bit?  We’re just gonna hang out, I’m not sexiling you.”

 

“Oh,” Steve says, surprised, “Yeah, whatever you want.”

 

He knows it’s foolish, but he’d kind of assumed Tony would end up curled in his bed, bugging Steve to put on a movie and snuggle with him.

 

Instead, Luke shows up about fifteen minutes later, waves as he toes off his shoes and then hangs up his jacket before he goes over to Tony, dropping onto the bed and frowning.  “Jesus, Tony,” he murmurs, touching his face lightly, “What did he do to you?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tony says, “Can we just—be lazy and maybe watch a documentary?”

 

“Yeah, of course.  Someone told me about this new one on rare reptiles.”

  
“Better be snakes,” Tony says, reaching for his laptop.

 

When they settle, Luke whispers something Steve can’t hear, and Tony hums, turning so Luke can kiss him.  “I love you,” Luke murmurs.

 

“Uh huh,” Tony says, turning away again.

 

Steve forces himself not to look over, but he can’t help wondering when the hell this happened.

 

——

 

Things start to settle fairly quickly.

 

Somehow, Steve and Tony start to return to their old routine.  They do yoga every day, start going to the gym again, watch movies and play video games, hang out with Bruce and Betty, and it starts to feel almost normal.  And then, the last weekend of January, Tony comes back from _somewhere_ —he keeps disappearing Friday afternoons—thrumming with energy.  “Dude, party at Thor’s tonight, it’s going to be _epic_.  We are so going.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Dude, _yes_.”  Tony’s grin is a little wild, but it’s been a while since he saw this Tony, and he finds he’s missed it.  “I need to get laid,” Tony says, going over to his dresser, “I am so sick of lazing about and you know what—” he throws clothes toward his bed, “—I think I want either pussy or the lesbians.”

 

“What about Luke?” Steve asks, trying to sound casual.

 

“What about him?”  Tony shimmies out of his jeans.

 

“Tony, I’ve heard him tell you that he loves you multiple times.”

 

“Yeah, he’s a real fucking Romeo.  Give me a balcony, and I’ll show you a tragedy.  Come _on_ , Steve.  We’ll hook you up with a fine piece of ass—your first gay party experience!  This is happening, you can’t stop it.  Let’s go, get ready, we’re leaving in thirty.”

 

He leaves before Steve can respond, though, once in the hallway, Tony deflates.  He’s been trying _so hard_ to make things normal between them, to just be friends when all he wants to do is drop Luke and tell Steve everything—that he misses being hit with erasers, misses shoulder kisses and his lingering touches, misses practicing acroyoga and pressing their bodies close together, misses waking up in the warm circle of his arms, misses yelling at each other and wanting to knock him to the floor, misses the way his mouth tastes and feels, misses _him_.  Tony wants to tell him all that and more, wants to demand they talk this shit until they both finally admit they belong together.  It terrifies him, though.  He’s had plenty of sexual partners, dated a little here and there, even has whatever Luke is, but he’s never wanted to just _be_ with someone before.

 

Tony is so lost that when Bruce answers the door, he can’t remember why he’s there.  “Hey,” Bruce says, opening the door wider, and that’s when Tony smells it.

 

“Dude,” he says, coming in, “What the hell?”

 

“Want a hit?” Bruce asks, going back over to his bed, where a bong sits, “Betty’s on a food run cos she touched my dick.”

 

“What?” Tony asks, climbing onto the bed with him.

 

“Oh dude, it’s awesome,” Bruce says, “Instead of rock paper scissors or whatever, we do naked meditation until someone caves, and then we have sex before going on a food run.  It’s rad.”  He takes a hit on the bong and then passes it over.

 

“Do you ever do naked yoga?” Tony asks before he takes a hit.

 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Bruce says, “First few times, it only lasted a couple minutes, but we can get through a full routine now.”

 

“Acroyoga?”

 

“Dude, I get hard when she’s wearing clothes, no way.  My girlfriend is fucking gorgeous.”

 

“No denying that,” Tony says, taking another hit before passing the bong back.

 

Bruce hums, inhaling deeply.  “Okay,” he says, looking over at Tony, “Betty and I had a very long discussion about this.”

 

Tony’s brow furrows in confusion, and he starts to speak when Bruce leans over, mouth pressing against Tony’s.  He tastes like marijuana and mint green tea, and his lips are cool from the bong.  He kisses slowly at first until Tony registers that _Bruce_ is kissing him, and then he puts his all into responding.  Bruce breaks to breathe, and Tony follows him, teeth scraping over his bottom lip.  “Tony,” Bruce mumbles.

 

“Shut up,” Tony says before he brings them back together, licking into Bruce’s mouth as his hands comes up, threading through his curls.  Bruce sighs into his mouth, letting Tony taste him until he’s coaxing Bruce to respond the same, and then they’re making out easily, just exploring one another’s mouths until Tony pulls away, lifting up and swinging a leg over Bruce’s side.  He drops down into his lap, tilting Bruce’s head up so he can kiss him again, and Bruce groans, giving back everything he’s getting.  Tony rolls his hips down into Bruce’s lap lightly, just testing the waters, and Bruce’s hands flutter to his hips, immediately slipping up under his shirt, nails scratching lightly at his skin.

 

“Tony,” Bruce says again when Tony breaks away, kissing down Bruce’s jaw to his neck.  “Shit, okay, yeah, definitely might be a little gay for you.”  Tony presses his laugh into Bruce’s skin, teeth scraping over lightly so that goose bumps rise in his wake.  He leaves a trail of soft, wet kisses, circling around and coming back up, and he reaches Bruce’s mouth again when the door opens.  He kisses him anyway, and the door snaps shut.

 

“Oh my god,” Betty groans, slumping back against the door.

 

Tony releases Bruce slowly, and his mouth is swollen when Tony sits back, grinning.  Bruce blinks up at him and then looks over at Betty, who is trying her hardest to keep her hands where everyone can see them.  “I’m just saying,” she says, swallowing audibly, “Either you and I need to take this a step further, or, I’m sorry, Tony, but you need to scoot and skidaddle.”

 

“My work here is done,” Tony says, giving Bruce a good, last roll of his hips, enough that Bruce’s head drops back, and then he climbs off, stops by Betty to peck her on the mouth, and then takes his leave.  The lock clicks, and he just laughs, heading back down the hall.

 

“Hey,” Steve says when he comes in, “Betty and Bruce coming with?”

 

“Probably later,” Tony says, “They’re currently fucking, compliments to me.  Yes,” he adds at Steve’s strange expression, “I am that awesome.  Come on, let’s go, the party’s already started.”  He goes over to change his shirt, and then they’re heading out.

 

The party is well underway when they get there, and Steve just thumps Tony on the shoulder, says, “Be good!” and heads for the drinks.  Tony’s skipping out because he already took his meds today—so close to his last attack, he needs to—and so he jumps into the crowd, letting it swallow him up.

 

He’s barely in there for ten minutes before someone is sliding up in front of him, ass grinding into his lap, and he grins—he missed party girls.  He dances as dirtily as he knows how, and, before long, she’s turning and pulling him in for a kiss.  He lets her have her way with him until she’s tugging him off the floor, and, eventually, she ends up against a wall, legs hooked around Tony’s ribs as he fucks her.  It’s been a while since he was with a woman, and it’s better than he remembers.  When he comes, he’s trembling a little, and she’s teetering dangerously close to another orgasm, so he slides a thumb down, still coming down from his own orgasm, and she comes as he’s sliding out, head thudding back as she lets out a cry.

 

When they’re all cleaned up, she pecks his cheek, says, “Bye!” in a cheery voice, and runs back out into the party.  Tony just grins and follows her, diving back into the crowd.  He lets himself be swept up, dancing and letting go until he’s sweating and grinning openly.  He loves parties, loves letting loose until there’s nothing but the bodies around him, hearts beating in time with the drums, the bass flooding through him until it’s just him and the music, thrumming through his veins until he’s breathing sound.

 

A body slides up behind him, hands drifting over his body, and Tony lets his head tip back, arms lifting into the air.  He doesn’t care who it is, man or woman, doesn’t recognize anything but that someone is holding him, someone is dancing with him, someone cares enough for this second.  He ends up pinned between two people, and the nudge of a cock at his ass lets him know the one behind is a man, and the one in front certainly is, as well.  He dances with them until he’s feeling out of breath, and then, as he starts to slip out from between them, the one behind spins him and kisses him as the other moves closer, and Tony’s sandwiched in between them, being attacked on all fronts.  His head is tilted back as the first man mouths down his neck, the second one sliding a hand between them and curling around his groin.  “Jesus _fuck_ ,” Tony groans, letting himself be trapped, be _touched_.

 

Fingers curl around his wrist, and Tony looks over, grinning when he sees Steve.  “Have fun, lovers,” he says, ducking out from between them.  Tony lets Steve lead him away, and, once outside the crowd, Steve pushes a water into his hands.  “My hero!” Tony exclaims, snatching it up and turning so his back isn’t to the party—he’s been snuck up on enough in his life to know better.

 

“You’re not drinking tonight, right?” Steve asks as Tony gulps.

 

He nods, handing the water over.  “Shut up, and drink,” he says, and Steve finishes the last half of it.  When it’s gone, Tony takes Steve’s hand and yanks him back toward the floor.  “Stop moping, let’s go!” he calls over the music.  Tony pulls him into the heart of the crowd and then turns, tugging Steve close to him.  “Smile, Stephen!” he yells, “We’re having fun!”

 

Steve just kind of looks at him like he doesn’t know what to do with him, so Tony turns again, putting his back to Steve, reaching for his hands and putting them on Tony’s hips.  The second Tony starts moving, Steve slides back into how they used to be, hands warm against Tony, grinning as he feels how loose Tony is, how easy and pliant his body is.  They dance like nothing has changed between them, like they’re still _tonyandsteve_ , and then, as Steve’s pressing closer, as he’s saying fuck all and brushing his nose against the shell of Tony’s ear, Tony lets out an exclamation and wriggles away, taking off.  Steve sees Betty and Bruce in the distance, but he can’t help just standing there, baffled.  This must have been how Tony felt all those times, and he suddenly understands why he was so mad every time.

 

“Hel _lo_ handsome,” a deep voice says as someone takes Tony’s place, facing him, and Steve hums appreciatively.  He’s incredibly attractive in a rugged, quick sort of way, a shock of dark blonde hair and blue eyes, a thick jaw and a wicked smirk.  Steve shrugs and steps closer, and the man just laughs, loud and clear, and starts dancing.

 

They dance until his cock is straining against the confines of his jeans, and it’s the first time he’s reacted to someone who wasn’t Tony or Bucky.  “Thought so,” the man murmurs, turning, and Steve groans, hands curling around his hips as he grinds his ass down into Steve’s lap.  He lets his hands drift, one sliding down, one sliding up, and the man lets out a surprised noise, tipping closer to Steve, head settling against his chest.  “Jesus, you didn’t look like the forward type,” he says, turning his head, and Steve takes the opportunity, biting his neck before he soothes the spot with a lick.

 

Steve flicks his gaze up and grits his teeth.  Tony is dancing with those two men again, and it makes his blood boil.  “Let’s go somewhere quiet,” Steve says against the man’s ear, and he just grins and nods.

 

The man pulls him off, and, as they get deeper into Thor’s apartment, he looks over his shoulder and says, “Johnny, by the way.”

 

He arches an eyebrow, and so Steve says, “Steve.  Do you go here?”

 

“I don’t,” Johnny says, “Thor’s brother, Loki, goes to my school.  It’s about two hours away.  You?”

 

“Yeah, just started last semester.”

 

“Cool, man.  I’m a sophomore, you?”

 

“Freshman.  Art major.”

 

“Dude, I wish I had artistic talent.  I’m a mechanical engineer with an unhealthy obsession with astronomy.  Here we go,” he says, opening a door.

 

Steve glances back toward the party, but then Johnny’s fingers are circling his wrist, and he follows him in.  The second the door is closed, Steve pins Johnny up against it, pressing them together as one of his hands slides to the lock, clicking it shut.  He kisses Johnny until they’re both breathless, and then Johnny’s pushing at him and reaching for the hem of his shirt.  He copies him, stripping out of his shirt and then reaching forward for Johnny’s belt, tugging it undone.

 

“You top, right?” Johnny asks, head dropping back against the door.

 

Steve gets his jeans undone, and then it occurs to him that he only has a basic idea of what he’s doing.  “Yeah,” he says finally, dropping to his knees, and Johnny groans as he tugs down his jeans.  His cock comes free, hard and thick, and Steve’s own dick throbs in his jeans at the sight of it, and, okay, he’s definitely fucking gay.

 

He leans forward on instinct, tongue swiping over the head, and Johnny’s breath rushes out as he threads a hand in Steve’s hair, guiding him closer.  Steve lets him, taking his cock in his mouth, groaning at the weight of it on his tongue, and the sound vibrates around Johnny’s dick so that he shudders, nails scraping against Steve’s scalp.  He thinks back on every blowjob he’s ever gotten, thinks about the scarring google search he made over winter break, and tries out what’s always worked on him.  He sucks until Johnny is tugging at him, pulling him away.  “Slow down, Steve,” Johnny gasps, trembling lightly, “Jesus, I’m gonna come down your fucking throat if you keep at it.”

 

Steve licks his lips and then stands, stepping close again and kissing Johnny, who goes pliant under him, letting Steve’s hands wander and discover.  Eventually, Johnny leads them away from the door, giving Steve a gentle shove toward the bed.  He pauses to strip out of his jeans and boxer briefs, and then they’re tumbling naked onto the bed, sliding together, and Steve groans at the way that feels, at the fiery contact of Johnny’s skin.

 

“Condom?” Johnny asks as he rolls off of Steve suddenly, going over to the nightstand at the side of the bed.  “Thor, you kinky son of a bitch,” he laughs as he opens the second drawer.  Steve reaches over for his jeans because, yes, he did bring condoms, and, when he returns with one, Johnny’s still rifling through the drawer.  He finally returns with a bottle of lube, snapping it open and climbing on top of Steve.  “Okay if I stretch myself?” Johnny asks, already slicking his fingers, and Steve nods.

 

It’s fucking _beautiful_ watching Johnny move, fingers sliding into his ass, hips rolling down onto his hand, and Steve fees like he could probably come just watching him.  When he’s done, he tosses the lube away, takes the condom from Steve to rip it open, and then he’s reaching behind him, stroking Steve once, twice, a third time until Steve’s whining, head tipping back, and then he laughs and rolls it on.

 

He can tell Johnny wants to be on top, but he’s got other plans, and Steve unbalances him, tips him over until he’s hovering over him, and he hooks one of Johnny’s legs over his elbow, the other hand coming down to guide his cock to Johnny’s ass.  “Yeah, okay,” Johnny says, grinning widely, and then Steve’s carefully nudging his way inside until Johnny’s bowing up toward him and Steve’s dipping down, forehead pressing against his sternum.

 

Steve gives him a few, slow thrusts to adjust, and then Johnny’s squirming his other leg up over Steve’s shoulder, and they fuck fast and hard, Steve’s hips slapping against his ass, and he’s not going to last long, he just knows because holy _fuck_ , this is good.  “ _Steve_ ,” Johnny whines, ass clenching around his cock, “Fucking _hell_ , I’m close.”

 

Steve just groans and presses them closer together, thrusts getting erratic as he feels a low pull in his belly, and then he’s letting out a soft cry and coming.  His dick pulses in Johnny’s ass, who twitches up toward him, gasping as Steve moves slowly, filling him, letting his heat bring him farther over the edge until he’s shaking, and then Johnny’s coming undone, untouched.  Steve gasps when Johnny’s ass tightens around him as he comes, and he holds onto him as he rides it out, his skin like fire.

 

When they finally tumble apart, Steve is breathing hard and Johnny is grinning like it’s a fucking holiday.  “Steve,” he says, reaching out a hand and slapping his chest, “Give me your phone.”  Steve does as he’s told, rolling over and reaching for his jeans, plucking his phone out of the pocket.  He hands it over as Johnny says, “This will not be the last time you fuck me if I have anything to say about it.  That was—fuck, that was _good_.  Holy balls.”

 

Steve allows himself a small smile, and he can’t deny he’s feeling pretty proud of himself right now.  Johnny gives him his phone back and then sits, pulling his knees up and stretching his arms out.  “Hey,” Johnny says, looking back at him, “Do you know that guy everyone’s always talking about?  Tony, I think his name was?  I heard he was crazy in bed, but you could probably give him a run for his money.  You hit that yet?”

 

Steve just stares at him.  He can’t believe this is happening.  “No, I haven’t,” he says finally, and then swings his legs off the bed to get his jeans.

 

Johnny shrugs.  “I haven’t heard about you, though.”

 

“Yeah, kind of new to the scene,” Steve says quietly, not really intending for Johnny to hear, but then Johnny’s scooting across the bed, sitting so his knee settles on Steve’s thigh.

 

“Hey,” he says, elbowing him, “What’s up?  Was that not good for you?”

 

“It was—it was incredible,” Steve says, nodding, looking over at him, “Just—Tony.”

 

“Do you know him?” Johnny asks, leaning his head to the side.

 

“He’s my roommate.”

 

“Dude, no way!  Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was such shitty after-sex small talk.  So what, he turned you gay?”  When Steve doesn’t answer, Johnny groans, flopping backward.  “Shut up, hit the nail on the head?  Steve, I don’t know what to say, I’m just shitting out of my mouth right now, this is awful.  Wait a minute,” he sits up again, frowning, “New to the scene?  Holy _fuck_.”

 

“Great,” Steve mutters before he stands, pulling on his boxer briefs and then his jeans.

 

“You must think I’m some enormous douchebag,” Johnny says, and he sounds forlorn enough that Steve turns around.  “This was your first time?”  Steve doesn’t want to, but he nods.  “Okay,” Johnny says, slapping his thigh before he goes to grab his jeans, hauling them back on.  He pulls on his shirt, tosses Steve his, and then comes back over, kissing Steve before he can step away.  He doesn’t let him pull back, and Steve finally succumbs until he’s getting a little lost in how slow and careful Johnny’s mouth moves against his.  When he finally breaks away, he’s smiling, and it looks genuine.  “Call me sometime,” he says, kissing Steve a last time before he heads out.

 

When he’s gone, Steve drops back onto the bed, just sitting there.  He tries not to, but Johnny’s smile is infectious, and soon, he’s ducking his head, hiding his grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, LOOK, IT’S JOHNNY, OH MY GOD, I’M SO EXCITED. You have no idea, he is easily one of my favorite characters in this series, I had _so much fun writing him_. Well, not had, he’s still in it, just not as much. Oh my gosh, I’m freaking out, I’m so excited that we’re finally on this section of the story. Erin keeps telling me it’s her favorite part before the superhusbands get together, SO GET READY, THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN. Also, I graduate on Saturday. It feels really surreal. I’ll probably post early in celebration. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	22. Chapter 22

The next morning, when Steve wakes, he feels like someone is punching him, repeatedly, in the head.  He groans, rolling out of bed, and he barely makes it into the bathroom before he’s puking.  When he eventually gets back to the room, he notices Tony’s bed is empty, and he starts to worry when he sneezes, his whole body jerking with the effort.  He sneezes again, and then he groans, stumbling over to his desk and banging around until he finds his tissues.  He collapses back onto his bed when he’s done, passing out.

 

Tony comes in like a fucking whirlwind around eleven, singing loudly and slapping open palms against the walls as he goes.  “Rise and shine, cutie tush!”  Steve groans loudly, rolling over until he can bury his face in his pillow.  “Aw, is shoulders hung over?  Sucks for _you_!”

 

“ _Why_ are you in such a good mood?” Steve mumbles into his pillow.

 

“We’re going to the store because there is _nothing_ in this room.  Do you want anything?” Tony asks, and Steve lifts his head, looking over.

 

He waves as Betty smiles and comes over, Bruce harassing Tony until he’s threatening to kiss him again, and Steve grunts at that.  “Again?” he says when Betty sits on the edge of his bed.

 

“Mm, walked in on them yesterday,” she says, frowning and lifting a hand to his head.  “Steve, you’re burning up,” she says, leaning forward so she can see him, “Are you feeling okay?”

 

“Like shit,” he says, “But also hung over.”

 

“Well, take some Tylenol just in case.  Get some rest while we’re out.”  Steve nods, dropping his head back down, and Betty just sighs, pushing his damp hair back before she stands and goes to herd her boys out of the room.  She hits the lights on the way out, locks the door, and then they’re leaving.

 

They take Tony’s car, and he immediately jumps back into their original conversation, “I wish you guys had seen them, they were fucking _gorgeous_.  Pretty much just took turns, I was blissed out as fuck afterward, it was beautiful.  Fell asleep, and that’s how I woke up, fucking mouth on my ass, Jesus _hell_.”

 

“Alright,” Bruce says from the back, leaning forward and tugging on his ear, “Calm down, you.”

 

“Anything with Steve?” Betty asks, looking over.

 

“Danced with him briefly,” Tony says, shrugging, “But just to get him out there.  I’m trying, guys.  He wants to be just friends, and I’m giving it my best effort.  It’s really fucking hard, but I’m trying.”

 

“That’s good,” Betty says, smiling, “Do you know if he’s talked to Bucky at all?”

 

“I think a couple times here and there, but nothing special.  He doesn’t tell me much about him, thankfully.”

 

“How are things with you and Luke?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony drums his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to decide how much he wants to tell them, but then he thinks of that text this morning, _I can’t believe you.  You’re such a fucking slut.  I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you to go out last night, asshole.  Call me_.  Tony sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair before he says, “He told me that he loved me.”

 

“What?” Betty and Bruce exclaim at the same time.

 

Tony shrugs.  “What did you say back?” Betty asks.

 

“Something witty, I’m sure.”

 

“You don’t even remember?”

 

“What?  It’s not like he meant it.”

 

“Tony,” Betty says, shaking her head, “How many times has he said it?”

 

“I don’t know, I’m not keeping fucking count.  What does it matter?”

 

“Tony, he wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t think he meant it,” Bruce says, “When did he say it?”

 

“Over winter break.  Plenty since then.”

 

“Jesus, Tony,” Bruce says, “That’s not okay.”

 

“What am I supposed to do, _lie_ to him?  I can’t fucking stand him half the time, and the other half he’s just being a creepy fuck.  I don’t give a shit what he wants.  If he wanted someone to love him, he would have stayed with his girlfriend.”

 

“He broke up with his girlfriend?” Betty asks, looking over at him, wide-eyed.

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

Betty looks back at Bruce and then at Tony, again.  “Tony, he might think you’re his boyfriend now.”

 

“Oh, fuck that,” Tony says, starting to dig out his phone, but Betty stops him with a hand on his arm.

 

“Not right now,” she says softly, shaking her head, “Give it some time to sit, and then talk to him.”

 

After a moment, Tony nods, returning his hand to the wheel.  “So, Bruce,” he says, and Betty starts laughing.  “What?” Tony says, looking over at her.

 

“Oh my god, you need to do that again because—Bruce,” Betty turns, looking at him, “That was honestly some of the best sex we have ever had.”

 

“Yeah, I gotta give you kudos for that, man,” Bruce says, knocking his fist against Tony’s shoulder.

 

“I’m telling you, just let me have my wicked way with you two, and you’ll never be the same again,” Tony says, grinning.

 

“Someday,” Bruce says, sinking back into his seat, and Tony just lifts a fist.

 

When they get to the store, Tony digs out his phone and texts Luke back, _I’m at the store right now.  I’ll be home in a little bit.  Can we talk then?_

They head across the parking lot, and Betty’s getting a carriage when Tony’s phone buzzes.  _Really?  Who are you at the fucking store with?_

_I’m not doing this right now.  I’m with Betty and Bruce.  I’ll call you when I get back to my room_ , he types back, and though his phone rings after that, he ignores it, instead heading into the store.  They spend a couple hours there, mostly getting distracted in the toy aisle, losing Tony and Betty in the beauty aisle, losing Bruce at the candles, rummaging around in the movies, and then, when they eventually get up to the register, Luke is calling for the fifth time.  “Holy balls,” Tony grumbles, pulling it out and stepping behind the super couple as they load up the belt.  “Hello?” he answers.

 

“Why aren’t you answering my calls?  Are you too busy _fucking_ your precious friends?”

 

“Luke, oh my god, I’m at the fucking store.  I had no food in my room, so we went out shopping.”

 

“I’m on my way over to your room.”

 

Tony groans, tipping his head back.  He did _not_ sign up for this bullshit.  “I’m not in my room, Luke,” he says slowly.

 

“I don’t believe you,” Luke says, and then he hears a door slam.

 

“You’re going to wake up my sick and hung over roommate, and he’s going to puke on you, and I hope it fucking _smells_ , asswipe.  I am not in my room.  We’re checking out now, and I’ll let you know when we get back.”

 

“I’ll just wait on your bed, then.”

 

“You’re such a fucking creep, oh my god!” Tony exclaims, shaking his head when Bruce looks back at him.  “Do not go over to my room.”

 

“I can’t believe you went out and hooked up with someone last night,” Luke mutters, “I can’t believe you would cheat on me like that.  You’re such a fucking _whore_ , Tony.”

 

“Okay, fuck you,” Tony says before he hangs up, shuts his phone off, and then relieves Bruce of loading his things onto the belt.

 

After they’ve checked out and packed the car, they head back to campus, Tony blasting something angry until Betty sighs and turns it off.  “Shut up,” she says when Tony starts to whine, “What’s going on?”  


“Apparently, the pedophile has decided to sit on my bed until I get back.”

 

“Dude, that’s weird,” Bruce says, and Tony nods.

 

“You’re telling me.”

 

He doesn’t really expect Luke to be there when he gets back, laden with bags.  “Hey, I got you some cough drops, and—are you fucking serious?” he ends as he looks up and spots Luke on his bed, “Get the fuck out,” he continues even as he lets the door slam behind him.  Steve winces from his place on his bed, knees pulled up, sketchpad balanced on his thighs.

 

“You—” Luke starts.

 

“Shut up!” Tony yells, dropping his bags on the floor before he starts to sort through them.  “I told you to fucking stay away.  I told you Steve didn’t feel good, and you still fucking came over.  You’re such a creep, Luke.  Do you even realize how messed up that is?”

 

“Oh, it’s messed up for me to come over my boyfriend’s place when he’s being an _asshole_?” Luke shouts, standing.

 

Tony turns, straightening.  He lifts a hand, pointing between him and Luke.  “Not a thing.  Let me make this _very_ clear.  I am not your boyfriend.  I will _never_ be your boyfriend.  You are someone who is typically the shittiest person I have ever met, but also someone who is really fucking good in bed.  I keep you around _for sex_ , Luke.  I thought that was pretty fucking clear all along.”

 

“What’s with all the cuddling for, then?  Why are we always staying over?  Why do you think I told you I loved you?  I left my girlfriend for you!”

 

“I never asked you to!”

 

“You are my whole world!” Luke screams as he comes storming across the room, “I _worship_ the fucking ground you walk on, and you—you _faggot_!”  His hand comes soaring up, Steve’s sketchpad hits the floor as he scrambles upright, and Tony snaps forward, one hand catching Luke’s hand in the air and the other grabbing onto his other arm, pinning it in midair away from his body.

 

His nails bite into Luke’s wrist until Luke shouts in pain, blood welling against his skin.  “I will not be hit!” Tony roars, hand twisting until Luke cries out again, staring at his wrist.  “I will not be hit,” Tony says again, his voice lower, “I do _not_ deserve abuse, and I refuse to tolerate it from you.  If you ever lift a hand to me again—” he breaks off, shaking his head.  He shoves Luke backward, and he cradles his arm in against him, staring at Tony with a mixture of horror and hatred.

 

“No wonder your father beats you,” Luke mutters, and Tony sees red.

 

The next thing he knows, he’s being lifted into the air as their door bangs open.  Luke is on the ground, screaming every swear imaginable at Tony as he struggles to pick himself up.  Steve has got Tony in a tight grip, backing him away as Tony fights to get away from him.  Bruce is standing in the doorway, and he takes one look at the scene before hauling Luke to his feet and yanking him out of the room.

 

“Let go of me!” Tony screams, and Steve releases him when the door shuts again.  Tony stumbles away, chest heaving as he turns, staring at Steve.  “What the fuck is your problem?”

 

“ _My_ problem?” Steve yells in return, mouth dropping open, “Are you even kidding me?  Tony, you almost broke his arm!”

 

“He deserved it, he—don’t touch me!” he erupts as Steve reaches forward, and his voice is so high that Steve flinches back.  Tony stares at him, holding his breath, and he can feel the panic rising up, can feel it swelling in his throat until he _can’t_ breathe.

 

“Tony!” Steve calls as he turns and runs, pulling the door open and sprinting down the hall.

 

He fumbles with the handle on Betty and Bruce’s door as he tries to inhale, but he just makes this noise like a high whine, and he bangs on the door.  Betty is the one to open it, and she immediately pulls Tony in, steering him toward the bed.  He only gets halfway, shaking so bad that his knees give out, and he crumbles to the floor, wheezing.  The door opens again, admitting Bruce, as Betty sinks to her knees in front of him, tilting his head up.  “Tony, breathe,” she says, “It’s okay, just breathe.”

 

He shakes his head, his chest constricting painfully as he tries to pull down air, as he tries anything, but then Bruce is coming into his peripheral, and he lets out a terrified noise, leaning away.

 

“Bruce, get where he can see you,” Betty says, waving at him.  Bruce quickly comes around next to her, kneeling.  “Hey,” she turns back to Tony, “Listen to my breathing, Tony.  Try to match it.”  She breathes out loud, slowly and easily, and he tries to follow her lead, but she’s fading in and out of his vision, morphing into his father’s face, and Tony whines, tipping forward so his forehead is pressing against his knees.  “Tony,” Betty says, hand coming to settle on his back, and, somehow, that does it.  He hears an echo of his mother’s voice, _you’re okay, darling, I’m here, hush now_ , and he can breathe again.

 

It takes him a few minutes, but he finally lifts his head, Betty taking her hand back.  “You okay?” Bruce asks, and he nods.

 

“Yeah, I’m just—my throat hurts.”  He reaches up, rubbing it, and Bruce starts to reach back for their fridge, but Tony shakes his head.  “No, I need—I need my inhaler.  I’m sorry, guys, I didn’t—I couldn’t be in there anymore.”

 

“It’s okay,” Betty says, trying for a smile, “Do you want to stay in here?”

 

“No, I should—I should probably go back to Steve.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Tony nods, and he takes a moment to breathe again before he gets to his feet.  Betty and Bruce stand with him, as well.  “Thank you,” he says before he turns out.

 

When Tony gets back to the room, Steve is under his blankets, shivering.  “Hey,” Tony says, closing the door quietly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to flip out.”

 

“It was well deserved,” Steve says, and Tony laughs softly at his nasally voice.  He goes through the bags until he finds the cough drops, medicine, and Saltines.  Steve smiles when he sets them down on his desk.

 

“Thermometer?” Tony asks, and Steve points to the third drawer.  Tony opens it open, looking through until he finds a small med kit, and he finds the thermometer, popping it in before he opens the Dayquil.  They switch, and Tony frowns at his temperature—99.  “You should be okay for now,” he says as Steve takes the Dayquil, “Probably just need to sleep it off.”

 

Tony starts to go back over to his side when Steve reaches out, fingers curling around his wrist.  “Will you lie with me for a while?” Steve asks, and Tony wants to scream at him.

 

“No,” Tony says, twisting out of Steve’s loose grip, “I’m trying, Steve.  You wanted to be friends, and I’m trying.  Don’t make it difficult.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“I’m just—gonna get my stuff and go out for a bit.  I’ll have my phone if you need me.”

 

Steve doesn’t say anymore as he packs his things and then heads out, backpack slung over his shoulder.  He ends up at one of the labs in the science building, and he dumps his things onto a table, digs out his headphones, and gets to work on his homework.

 

He’s been there for an hour before someone interrupts him by way of dropping a book down on his table.  Tony looks up at it, and then up at the person when he recognizes one of the texts for his advanced anatomy class.  “Tony Stark, right?” the man says as he tugs out one of his headphones.  Tony nods.  “James Rhodes,” he says, holding out a hand.

 

Tony shakes hands with him before motioning to the seat opposite him.  “Are we in class together?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, and it blows.”

 

“Dude, seriously,” Tony says, rolling his eyes, “It’s so freaking easy, it’s driving me nuts.”

 

“Finally, someone that understands.  What’s your major?”

 

“Engineering, but I’m thinking about adding another science, so I’ve been dabbling.  Yours?”

 

“Medicine,” Rhodes groans, “It sucks with all the preliminaries.  But hey, we’ve got that project coming up.  Do you have a partner?”

 

“We need partners?” Tony says, “News to me.”

 

“Cool, then this works.  What are you working on?”

 

“Italian,” Tony says, tapping his notebook, “Do you speak any languages?”

 

“Spanish, unfortunately.  Italian is so much more beautiful.  I want to switch to French.”

 

“Do it,” Tony says, nodding, “French is one of my favorites.”

 

“Yeah?  I’ll think about it.  Have you started the homework for class yet?”

 

“No, uh—did you want to look at it together, maybe?” Tony asks, already reaching for his anatomy notebook.

 

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind.  It’s always good to have another brain to pick apart,” Rhodes says, dumping his backpack on the table before he opens his book.

 

He and Rhodes spend the next three hours together until he’s not Rhodes anymore, but Rhodey, and Tony can’t help but feeling like he may have just made a new friend.  After they finish their absurdly easy anatomy homework, they get to talking about the different classes Rhodey has to take to eventually become a doctor, and then he’s picking Tony’s brain about his career path.  The time starts to waste away until they’re both just doing their own homework, and then Rhodey checks his watch and says, “Huh, six.  You going to dinner anytime soon?”

 

“Yeah, I could eat,” Tony says, digging through his things for his phone as it starts to ring.  “Hang on,” he says, answering it, “Hey, what’s up?”

 

“Where are you?  We’re starving,” Betty whines.

 

“Speak of the devil, I was just about to head to dinner.  Meet you at the student center?”

 

“Yeah, be right there.  Want me to grab Steve?”

 

“I don’t care,” Tony says before hanging up.  “Some of my friends are going to dinner, if you want to come,” he offers, and Rhodey nods.

 

“Yeah, sounds cool.  Engineers, as well?”

 

“No,” Tony says as starts gathering his things, “Bruce is a physicist, though he’s been sitting on switching to nuclear physics for a little bit now.  Betty is doing something ridiculous with microbiology, and she’s just about the hottest woman at this school.  And my roommate, Steve, is an art major.”

 

“Yeah?  How does he fit into that?”

 

“Interestingly,” Tony says, and Rhodey laughs.

 

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” he says, and Tony just rolls his eyes.

 

——

 

January fades into February, and the boys start to settle into something they’re pretending is a normal rhythm.  Tony keeps disappearing to the science building, and Steve starts spending more and more time alone in their room.  Finally, though, when Steve has gotten fed up with this dance they’re doing, he starts typing out an angry text a few seconds before their door opens.  Tony comes in talking a mile a minute with a man behind him competing for floor time.  It’s Rhodey, he realizes, and Steve frowns, putting away his phone—he hadn’t thought they’d ever see Rhodey again.

 

“Listen, platypus, I’m telling you, dislocated shoulders are easy as fuck to get back in after the first few times.”

 

“And I’m telling you that you’re an engineer and should stick to your own major,” Rhodey says, jabbing him in the back between the shoulders, “We are _not_ dislocating your shoulder for our project.”

 

“It would be so cool, though!” Tony whines, tossing his backpack toward his bed before he dumps onto it.

 

Rhodey takes the opposite end after he kicks off his shoes.  “It would be gross is what it would be, and I don’t feel like resetting it, so you can just forget about it.”

 

“You’re such a buzzkill, what _ever_.  Are we doing this thing today?”

 

“Yeah.  Do you have a draft of your paper?”

 

Tony grunts, pulling his backpack toward him.  He digs around in it before finding his anatomy notebook, and then he rifles through that before handing over an essay.  Rhodey does the same, and then they’re falling into a brief space of quiet while they start reading each other’s essays.

 

It doesn’t take long before Rhodey’s reaching over and smacking Tony with his pencil.  “Okay, _no_ ,” he says, turning Tony’s essay toward him, which is folded over to the third page.  They start arguing about one of Tony’s points in his essay, and then they’re devolving into an argument about heat levels in the body according to different emotions, which gets Tony all flustered, and then they’re going back and forth so fast that not only can Steve not understand them, but they’re starting to get loud.

 

“Guys!” he calls from across the room, “Noise.”

 

“Sorry, Steve,” they say at the same time before Rhodey punches Tony and says, “Dude, video games?”

 

“Dude, _yes_ ,” Tony says, clambering off the bed.  He rummages around until he finds one of his earphones, pushes it in and then taps it.  “Hey Jarvis, you awake, darling?”

 

“For you, sir, always.  How may I be of service?”

 

“Pull up a stable projection for video games.  Uh, what’s on file?”

 

“Who are you talking to?” Rhodey asks, and Tony turns, grinning wildly.

 

They get stuck in a conversation about Jarvis, Rhodey asking every question Steve never thought to ask, and he’s starting to realize that maybe Rhodey is a friend, not someone Tony’s fucking.  Eventually, Tony’s sitting on the floor, stretching while he explains to Rhodey, who somehow gets to talking about boxing, and then they forget the video game.  Tony finds something to wrap their hands in, and then they’re shedding shirts, Tony’s changing into his yoga pants, and they start sparring.

 

Steve watches them, amused, but then it starts to become painfully obvious that there is zero sexual attraction between them, and he reaches for his phone, texting Betty, _okay, you know that guy Tony brought to dinner the other night?  They’re not fucking._

There’s a thud, and Steve looks up to find Tony on his ass, laughing.  Rhodey is leaning against the wall, shaking with laughter, and Steve quirks an eyebrow.  He doesn’t understand what’s going on.  He’s never seen Tony with a friend before, and it’s strange how easy he is.

 

Betty’s text makes him smile, _I need to borrow something._ She shows up a few minutes later, blows Tony an air kiss, and comes to sit with Steve, pretending to bother him into doing a sketch for her until Tony gets distracted with Rhodey, and then she snuggles up with him and snoops with him.

 

They end up playing video games, Tony pulling the beanbags out from the closet and dumping them in front of his dresser, where the projection sits.  “What is that, your high closet?” Rhodey says when Tony drops onto one of the beanbags.

 

“It is, actually,” Tony says, grinning, “And you can get a pretty gnarly bake going on in there.”

 

“Dude.”

 

“I know.”

 

“We’re doing that one day.”

 

Tony just laughs and nods before he logs into the game, and they start playing.  Betty leans against Steve, huffing.  “I don’t understand,” she whispers.

 

“It’s really weird.  They’re not even touching a little.”

 

Betty shakes her head.  “I’m supposed to be reporting back to Bruce.  He’s very curious.”

 

“I mean, it looks like Rhodey is just a friend.”

 

“Huh.”  Betty hangs out a little while longer, and then she stretches, sitting up.  “Hey,” she says, looking over at Steve, “You should actually do a sketch for me.”

 

“What of?” Steve asks.

 

“Bruce and I doing acroyoga.  That would be beautiful.”

 

“I mean, I’m free whenever.”

 

“Come on, then,” Betty says, patting his thigh before getting off the bed.  Steve shrugs and collects his things, following her out.  When they get into their room, Bruce is at his desk, tapping away at his laptop.  “Hey,” Betty says, leaning down to kiss his ear, “Take a break, we’re doing acroyoga.”

 

“Why?” Bruce asks as he continues typing.

 

“Because Steve’s going to sketch us.”

 

“Gimme a second, I’m almost done.”

 

Steve goes to sit on the bed, spreading out his things, while Betty gets ready, pulling off Bruce’s sweats, and Steve starts to look away when Betty waves a hand at him.  “Thank you for being gentlemanly, but acroyoga in itself is a very intimate exchange, so seeing me change is nothing in comparison.”  Steve just shrugs and flips open his sketchpad.

 

Betty changes into a pair of little, black shorts, finds a pale blue half shirt over her black bra, and then she unrolls her mat, stretching out.  Bruce comes over when she’s in a butterfly stretch, takes the chopsticks from her hair so it falls loose, and then goes to change.  When they’re finally ready, Betty’s hair flowing loosely around her, they start stretching together, hands and feet pressing together as they move, and then, before they begin, Betty kisses Bruce softly and then gets into her starting position.

 

Steve starts sketching as they begin, though it’s hard for him not to get lost in their performance.  There are long stretches where he just watches them move, mesmerized by the flow of their bodies, until they shift into a position that Steve gasps at.  “That,” he says, bending down toward his sketchpad, and Betty smiles.

 

She’s curled in the air, Bruce’s feet warm against the small of her back, her legs straight and toes pointed.  Her back curves down toward him, fingers laced together behind his neck, just holding onto him, his hands bracketed around her shoulders.  She tilts further back until she can see him, and Bruce smiles, leaning his head up to kiss her.  They hold the pose for longer than usual until Betty’s lower back starts to tingle, and then they move out, working through the rest of their routine.

 

Steve sketches until they’re finishing, Bruce slowly lowering Betty down until she’s resting on top of him, head tipped toward him.  “I love you,” she whispers, and Bruce hums, smiling as he presses their temples together.

 

“I love you,” he lets the words linger as he kisses her jaw.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Steve asks, already starting to collect his things.

 

“No,” Bruce says, tapping at Betty’s thigh until she rolls off of him, “I have to finish my paper.  You,” he says as he stands, pulling Betty toward him, and Steve looks away as he kisses her.  It’s hard and wanting, his hand threading up into her hair, and Betty lilts toward him, fitting against the curve of his body.  “God, you’re beautiful,” Bruce says when they pull away, thumbs drifting over her cheeks, “You just—”

 

Bruce leans his forehead against Betty’s, eyes closing.  “Bruce?” she asks, kissing his nose.

 

After a moment, he leans away, smiling.  “I love you,” he says, and Betty beams.

 

“I know,” she says, and Bruce laughs softly, shaking his head before he goes back over to his desk.  Betty grabs one of her books and then climbs onto her bed, curling up with Steve.  “Keep drawing, don’t let me distract you,” she says even as she pushes it out of his lap so she can rest her head on his thigh, lying down.  Steve laughs and moves it to his other leg, and he keeps working while Betty reads.

 

He spends the rest of the day in there until Bruce is groaning and pushing away from his desk.  “Is she asleep?” he asks, and Steve looks down, lifting Betty’s hair away from her face.

 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling.

 

“How’s it coming along?” Bruce asks, coming over and sitting on Steve’s other side.  Steve tilts the sketchpad toward him, and Bruce’s smile is wide and soft when he takes it, looking it over.  “Wow, Steve, that’s amazing.  Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, of course.  It’s not done yet, but I’ll let you know when it is.”  Bruce nods, and then Steve stretches before packing his things away, carefully lifting Betty off of his leg, and then saying his goodbyes before he heads back to his room.

 

When he gets in, Tony is meditating, legs folded in full lotus on his yoga mat.  He cracks an eye open when the door opens, and then closes it again when he recognizes Steve, who comes in, quietly putting his things away until he hears Tony inhale, and he looks over to find him straightening a little, his spine popping before he bends over, hands pressed together.  When he finally comes out, he rolls back until he’s in corpse, and he tilts his head back.  “I was wondering when you’d get back,” he says, “Wanna do yoga?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, come on,” Tony says before he starts moving, hands and feet coming in until he lifts into a backbend, and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

“Showoff,” he says.

 

“Not yet.  Watch this, I’ve been working on walkovers.”

 

He brings them in closer, rocks back onto his feet, inhales slowly, and then, as he’s exhaling, rolls forward, legs kicking up into a handstand.  He holds it, and then comes back down, standing and bowing.  “Can you get into a bend from a handstand?” Steve asks, unrolling his mat.

 

“Oh, totally.  Well, in theory.”

 

Tony rolls his shoulders, and then gets into down dog, stretching out until he feels comfortable enough, and then he walks his feet in, holds it, and kicks up.  Steve looks up, always amazed at his form, at the way he holds himself, so poised and so careful, breathing so easily.  After a bit, Tony slowly lowers one leg back and then lets the other one drift with it, his breaths coming up from his belly as he moves, rolling until his feet are on the ground, and then he walks his hands in and stands again.

 

“Seriously, you’re an asshole,” Steve mutters, and Tony just laughs.

 

After that, they stretch out, and then Tony taps his earphone and says, “Jay, Pandora,” and sitar starts leaking out around the room.  They move through their old routine slowly, Tony occasionally adding in new poses, and it’s not until they’re doing split stretches that Steve wants to _touch_.

 

They shift into the first of the split stretches, legs spread wide, and Tony lowers down until his head is resting on his mat, centered between his legs, hands on either side.  “Steve,” Tony says softly, and Steve looks up, waiting.

 

Tony takes a few slow breaths before rolling forward a little, back straightening as his legs start to lift off the ground.  They remain at a v-shape for only a few seconds before Tony’s pulling them out, and he comes into a full split, and Steve swallows down his groan.  Tony moves again, legs coming back in until they’re straight out, and then he starts to pivot down until his toes are hovering over the mat, and he spreads them again, coming down out of the stand.  Tony looks up, grinning, and Steve quickly composes himself.  “You’re starting to put me to shame,” Steve says, and Tony just laughs, shifting into the next stretch.

 

They continue going through the routine, and it’s not until one of their downward dog stretches that Steve realizes what’s going on.  He glances over, and Tony’s in a deep down dog, head drawn back past his elbows, heels pinned to the ground, and then they move into a new pose, one leg going up, and Tony’s leg rises higher and higher until it’s straight, even tilting back a little.  Steve comes down out of the pose into a dolphin to hide his face, holding his breath.

 

He’s fully hard, his cock throbbing in his pants, and he’s afraid that Tony will notice, afraid it’ll push them farther apart from each other.  “You okay?” Tony asks as he lowers his leg and lifts the other.

 

“Yeah, just a little tired.  Haven’t done this in a while,” Steve says, and it’s mostly the truth.

 

They finish up, and, thankfully, Tony’s too focused on his poses that he barely looks at Steve.  When they’re finally done and coming up out of corpse into a full lotus, Steve’s boner is a little less obvious, and so he gets his things to shower when they’re done, promising Tony he’ll do stand practice when he gets back.  Tony whines at him anyway, but then he’s dropping into dolphin and getting into a scorpion, and Steve needs to get out of there.

 

He goes into one of the small stalls because he feels like everything else is too open, is leaving him bare, and he yanks the door closed before leaning against it, trying to calm his quick breaths.  It doesn’t work, though, he’s too wound up, and so he sets his things down and sets about undressing.  When he pulls his yoga pants down, his cock comes out hard and aching, and Steve bites back a groan, closing his eyes.

 

He can’t get into the shower fast enough.  Steve yanks the curtain shut as he steps in under the hot spray, and he leans his head against the wall, trying to will his erection away.  He can’t do this, he can’t let things get out of control with Tony anymore.  Neither of them want it, and he knows that’s a lie.

 

Swearing, Steve reaches down, wrapping a hand around his cock, and he presses his forehead harder against the wall, biting his lip to stop himself from groaning.  He jerks himself in slow, agonizing pulls, but he keeps seeing Tony in that fucking split stand, and he can’t get him out of his head.  He imagines what it would be like to have Tony under him, legs _everywhere_ , back bowing off the bed, Steve’s name a litany on his tongue, and he gasps, hand skipping into a faster rhythm, chasing the heat pooling in his belly.  He imagines what it would be like to thread his fingers through Tony’s hair and tip his head back, mouth down his throat and taste his skin, leave marks all over him until everyone knew that he was _his_.  He imagines what it would be like to slide inside of him, to fill Tony with his cock, imagines the _noise_ he would make, and Steve leans back, putting his forearm against the wall and pressing his face into the crook of his elbow.  He imagines what it would be like to feel Tony come undone, to feel him tightening around him, fluttering all over, pulling Steve closer and closer until he was screaming, clawing at Steve as he shattered apart, and Steve bites his arm a second before his orgasm thunders through him, hooking through his belly.  It’s fucking _good_ , better than it’s ever been doing it by himself, and he works himself through it until his knees are shaking, and then he’s jerking back, shoulders hitting the wall.  “Fuck,” he says, head tilting back as his eyes close.

 

——

 

When he gets back from the shower, Tony is in a shelf handstand, and Steve has to stop himself from tickling one of his feet to unbalance him.  “Dude, dude, dude,” Tony chants, “Watch this, I’m so excited.”  He waits for Steve to look over, and then he starts to deepen the stand until one of his feet is drifting closer to his head, his other knee coming in toward his belly.

 

“Fucking hell,” Steve says, watching him, “Doesn’t that hurt?”

 

“Wee bit,” Tony admits, slowly coming out, “But totally worth it.”  When he drops back down, he stretches out in pigeon, and then sits up, turning.  “We should get high,” he says, “It’s Friday night, and Thor’s party isn’t until tomorrow, I want to get baked.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, putting his things away and going over to his bed.

 

“Awesome,” Tony says, slapping his thigh before he gets up.

 

A half hour later, Steve’s stretched out on his bed, Tony’s commandeered his desk, Steve’s laptop on his chair because Tony’s sprawled over the top of the desk, his head tipped over the edge.  “You know,” he says, handing the blunt over, “If you need to jerk off, you can just ask me to leave.”

 

“What?” Steve says, looking over at him as he takes the blunt, bringing it to his lips.

 

“Earlier,” Tony says, flapping a hand toward their mats, “That was a gnarly boner, man.”

 

“What are you, a fucking hippie?  Gnarly, really?  I did _not_ have a boner.”

 

“You did, and it was awesome,” Tony says, reaching out and plucking the blunt out of Steve’s fingers, “It’s cool, man.  You want to bone me, I want to bone you, we’re just a couple of idiots in love.  Balls, that’s good,” he says as he takes a long pull on the blunt, “Ace job, Stark.”

 

Steve stares at Tony, disbelieving, and he decides, that’s fucking it, he’s sick of this, he doesn’t want to play this game anymore, so he pushes up and leans over at the same time Tony jerks upright.  “Oh my god, I totally forgot!” he exclaims, clambering off of Steve’s desk and over to his own, dropping down into his chair, “I saw this hilarious video the other day, I wanted to show you.”

 

Steve tries to watch the video, but really, he just wants to haul Tony over to his bed and fuck him senseless.  And then, Tony winks, says, “Fucking fantastic being sexually frustrated, isn’t it?” before he takes his blunt and leaves.

 

Steve is going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just saying, I had an absurd amount of fun letting Tony be the frustrating one this time around. Steve totally deserves it, and Tony totally has a fantastic time doing it to him, and I was so pleased with him every time he got Steve all riled up.
> 
> And now, you can ignore this if you want, but I want to talk about today a little. Today, I graduated from the University of Maine at Farmington with a BFA in Creative Writing and a BA in English. It was a pretty amazing experience, and I’ve posted a little thank you note about it over at my tumblr if you’re curious. I’m really quite proud of myself right now, and I can’t believe it’s over. It feels like it went by so fast, but, at the same time, it went by so slow. How has it already been four years? I’ve already cried multiple times today, so I’m going to keep this short and not dredge up anymore tears, which I’ve already done tonight writing my thank you note—of course, it was when talking about my cats. Tomorrow, I start a new chapter in my life, and it’s sure to be a very exciting one, and one that’s already looking incredibly promising. When I came home today, after Maverick, my one-year-old black lab, came bounding out of the house to greet me with kisses, I was led inside and instructed to close my eyes, and something I never expected happened. For the past fifteen years, I have been sharing a room with my sister, whom I love dearly, but who I fear I am going to end up pillowing if I have to live with her any longer, and she’s let me know the feeling is mutual. My parents have been talking about putting up a wall and sectioning off half of the living room as a new room for me, and when I walked into the house today, there was not only a wall, but a door and a closet, and I now have my own room. I won’t be able to move in for a couple weeks still as it’s not done, and so I’m currently living in a room that my sister had planned to be her own when I came back, but, as my room isn’t finished yet, I’m still living with her, and it looks awful in here. This was a really amazing surprise, and I’m so thankful to my parents for making it happen. Oh no, now I’m using the thankful word again, so I’m going to stop before I start copying and pasting my note.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this early chapter, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! I’m starting to run out of party songs because I really just repeated Kesha a lot, so I think, for this party, [Bang it Out by Breathe Carolina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3xBX0-QCIA) would be a good one, but probably just some Kesha, either _Take it Off_ or _Blow_ will do. However, after you’ve gotten past the acroyoga scene, when Tony’s in the gym, we have finally reached my favorite song to listen to while writing Johnny, and that is [Absolution by the Pretty Reckless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5VyNsINlcY) because it reminds me of a predator, and it’s perfect for them. Who’s them, you ask? Go read.

The next night, Tony isn’t home, so Steve leaves for Thor’s without him, texting Johnny on the way, _hey, you going tonight?_

_Absolutely!_ comes his response, _You?  Fucking yes, it’s gonna be a good night._

Steve just grins and pockets his phone.  It’s not a long walk to Thor’s, and, when he arrives, he sees Tony immediately, dancing with Pepper and Peggy, his shirt gone, and he has half a mind to go over and steal him, but he heads for the drinks instead when he sees Johnny.  “Steve!” Johnny exclaims as he approaches, and, as soon as he’s within reaching distance, Johnny grabs at him, pulling him close and kissing him.  He tastes like cheap beer and nicotine, and though it’s kind of a nasty taste, Steve kisses him back, licking into his mouth and stepping in close to him.  “Hello to you, too,” Johnny says when they part, grinning lazily, “Come on, let’s get you good and wasted.”

 

He pushes a drink into Steve’s hands, and he takes it gratefully, chugging.

 

On the floor, Tony pulls a move on Pepper, fingers drifting under her jeans, and she just laughs and tips her head back, moving in time with the music.  “Not a chance, Tony,” Peggy says, reaching forward and plucking his hand out, so he lets them slide upward, and Peggy just sighs and nudges him away, turning Pepper so that she can kiss her.

 

Tony whines at them before he plunges in deeper, looking for someone to dance with.  “Fuck _yes_ ,” he groans when he sees the two men from before, and he makes a beeline for them.  They cheer when they see him and immediately pull him into their circle, hands fluttering over him.

 

“Hey,” Steve says, hand coming down to circle Johnny’s hip, “Come on.”  Johnny nods, tipping back the rest of his drink before he lets Steve lead him into the crowd, and they fuse together, dancing until Steve’s pressing hot kisses along Johnny’s neck, and Johnny rocks against him, slowing until they’re really just swaying together.

 

“Alright, pecks, let’s go,” Johnny says, grabbing his hand, fingers circling around his wrist, and he tugs Steve off.

 

Tony and his men have drifted off away from the crowd, though they’re still fairly close, Tony pressed against the wall as they attack him, mouths and hands everywhere until one of them is dropping to his knees, and Tony just laughs and lets his head fall back against the wall.  His jeans come undone, the other one steps in, shielding them, distracting Tony with a kiss as the first one takes Tony’s cock in his mouth, sucking _hard_.  He bats a hand at the second one’s belt until he undoes it for him, and then Tony’s diving a hand beneath his jeans, twisting until he can get a good hold, his jeans sagging a little so that his cock is free, and Tony jerks him off, hips pinned against the wall as he’s blown.

 

Johnny manages to find the room where they were last time, and he starts stripping out of his clothes quickly, motioning for Steve to do the same.  They fall together on the bed, and this time, when Johnny slides on top, Steve lets him, groaning loudly when Johnny slowly sinks down.  They fuck like this, Johnny riding him, and, when Steve comes, bucking up against Johnny, he has to swallow down Tony’s name.  After, he tips Johnny off of him, kisses down his front, and then gives his first blowjob, letting Johnny direct him a little here and there until he’s getting the hang of it, and Johnny’s nails are scraping against his scalp, moaning softly.  Johnny starts to pull him off, his voice an edged litany of, “shit, Steve, I’m close, so fucking close, I’m gonna come, _fuck_ ,” but Steve wants to swallow him down, wants to feel him come down his throat, and then Johnny’s groaning, his cock pulsing in Steve’s mouth.

 

Back at the party, Tony’s just zipping his pants when the two men kiss each other, and he hums appreciatively.  When they part, the taller of them says, “I’m Erik, by the way.  Tony, right?”

 

“My reputation precedes me, I see.  Nice to meet you.”

 

“Charles,” the other one introduces.  Charles leans forward, kissing Tony softly, and then they leave, waving.

 

Tony just grins and settles against the wall, staying there for a bit before he heads back into the crowd.  He gets lost, lets himself be moved and touched and hungered after, hands drifting over his body, mouths pressing to his own, and he doesn’t realize what’s happening until he stumbles and almost falls.  “Shit,” he says, looking around.  Bodies blur past him, and his breath thunders in his ears, his blood running hot as he tries to recall who the last person to kiss him was, and then he’s being led away from the crowd.  He can’t quite gain his footing, and he stumbles again, tripping into the person.

 

“What did you give him?” a muffled voice asks.

 

“I thought he could take it,” another voice says, “He’s Tony Stark, all he does is party.”

 

“Steve,” Tony mumbles, trying to pull away, but his arms are so heavy, he just tugs a little.

 

“Shut up,” the first one says, herding him farther away from the party.

 

And then, “Hey!”

 

Tony forces his head up, and he staggers before he goes down, knees hitting the ground hard.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Steve demands, hauling one of the people away, which jerks Tony’s arm to the side, and he slumps, groaning.  Johnny takes care of the other one as Steve leans down, pulling Tony to his feet.  “Tony,” he says, hands curling around his face and tilting it up, “Hey, look at me.”  He slaps his cheek lightly, and Tony opens his eyes, trying to focus on his face, but it keeps going in and out.  “Tony,” Steve says again, “Do you know where you are?”

 

“What?” Tony mumbles, “What’s going on?”

 

“You assholes, did you drug him?” Steve shouts, rounding on them.

 

“Balls,” Tony slurs, starting to tip backward, but Johnny grabs him, holding him up as Steve throws a wicked punch.  Johnny leans Tony against the wall and then goes to help him, and Tony just closes his eyes and lifts a hand, though it feels like he’s pulling it through wet concrete.  He drops it against his chest, which is a little tight, and he wants to scream.  He’d been doing so well, working toward getting sober, toward getting away from it all.  He doesn’t want to end up like his father, doesn’t want to get wasted every night and forget what he did the next morning, and now this.

 

Steve returns suddenly, lifting Tony’s arm around his shoulders and looping one of his around his waist.  “You’re okay,” Steve murmurs, and Tony just lets his head loll in, resting against Steve.  They only make it to the end of the hallway before Tony’s getting heavier, sinking farther into Steve, who swears.  “Can you help me get him onto my back?” Steve says to Johnny, who nods, taking Tony from him.  They carefully maneuver Tony until he’s draped over Steve’s back, and then Steve stands, hooking his elbows under Tony’s knees as Johnny loops his arms around Steve’s neck.

 

“Will you be okay getting home?” Johnny asks, and Steve nods.

 

“Yeah, thank you,” Steve says, leaning forward.  Johnny kisses him, smiling when he pulls away.

 

“See you around, kid,” he says before heading back into the party, and Steve lingers a second longer before shifting Tony’s weight and heading out.

 

——

 

By the time they get back to the room, Tony is out cold, and Steve takes him over to his bed, carefully setting him down.  He sets to work undressing him, tugging down his jeans and tossing them over to Tony’s side before he finds him a shirt and then sits him up, pulling it on.  When he’s done, he changes, pulls his trash over to the side of the bed, and then climbs in behind Tony.

 

He’s woken up in the morning to the sound of Tony vomiting.  He blinks blearily, reaching out a hand to rub Tony’s back as heaves into the trash.  When he’s done, he rolls back over, shaking.  “What the fuck happened last night?” he asks, dropping his arm over his eyes, “It’s fucking bright out.”

 

“Someone drugged you,” Steve says, turning onto his side so he can see him better, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like I need to puke again,” Tony says before he flings out a hand, pressing down against the bed so he can push himself upright.  He stumbles out, and Steve means to follow him, but he’s so tired, he just ends up falling asleep again.

 

When Tony comes back from the bathroom, it’s to grab his shower caddy before he’s leaving again, and then, after that, he calls his mom, gets into his own bed, and talks to her until he falls asleep again.

 

——

 

They spend the rest of the week not talking about it.  Steve tries to, once, on Sunday, but Tony just says, “Look, thank you for being there, I’m really fucking grateful to you right now, but I want to pretend it didn’t happen, so we’re just going to move past it, okay?  I’m trying so fucking hard to put that shit behind me, so I don’t want to talk about it.”  Steve nods, letting it go, though he wants to tell Tony how proud of him he is, how much he wants to hug him and let him know he’s there for him, no matter what, if he needs help, but, instead, he just suggests they do yoga, and Tony smiles softly and nods.  Rhodey comes over on Tuesday after one of Tony’s mechanical engineering classes, and they finish up their anatomy project.  The three of them get high and play video games, and Rhodey passes out on the floor, so they leave him there, laughing when he wakes up swearing and groaning.

 

Wednesday before lunch, Tony and Rhodey show up for lunch grinning and chattering excitedly about how well their presentation went, and then they gang up on Steve because he has introductory anatomy next.  After that, Steve is alone in his room because Tony has one of his mechanical engineering classes until nine.  He spends some time texting Johnny, getting to know him a little, and he sets up plans to hang out this weekend before he’s diving into his homework.

 

Tony comes in _pissed off_ around nine thirty, slamming the door open and throwing his backpack across the room.  “I _hate_ the absolutely— _douche canoes_ in my fucking class,” he says, ripping out of his jacket, “They are worse than fucking spiders, fucking moron dick biters, I _hate them_.”

 

Steve looks over, wide-eyed.  “Everything okay?” he asks.

 

“No!” Tony yells, kicking his chair, and then he’s whining, hopping up and down on one foot.  “Mother— _ass balls_ , that hurt!”  Steve doesn’t mean to, but he starts laughing.  “Hey!” Tony exclaims, pointing at him, but then he deflates, dropping onto his bed and whining.

 

“Better?” Steve asks, and he shrugs.

 

“I dunno, they got me all worked up and now I’m all itchy and tight.  Hey!  Shit, oh my god, light bulb!  Let’s do acroyoga.  Steve, _come on_ , we haven’t done it in so long, we need to practice the routine.  That’s it, we’re doing it,” he continues before Steve can respond, “We’re gonna do yoga, and then stretch out and do acroyoga.”

 

Steve shrugs.  “Okay,” he says, putting his laptop on his desk and getting up to get changed.

 

Yoga goes by fairly smoothly.  Tony does another split stand during their split stretches, and Steve swears out loud at him, which makes Tony laugh, which tips him out of the stand.  “You dig it,” he says, and Steve just rolls his eyes.  Tony does some quick stand practice after while Steve stretches out after, and he watches Tony do a series of walkovers before he’s coming to stretch with Steve.

 

And then, they begin.

 

It’s been a long, long time since Steve has had his hands on Tony like this, and a shiver runs down his spine as Tony steps in close to him, feet on either side of his stretched knees, toes wiggling and spreading.  “Ready?” he asks, and Steve nods, lifting his arms up, bent at the elbows.  Tony inhales, back bending, and then he comes forward, fingers tangling with Steve’s as he exhales, and then he starts walking in, holding it until Steve nods, and then he kicks up slowly, balanced only by Steve’s hands.

 

They stay there, coming together until their breaths are aligned, and though Steve’s heart is thudding against his ribs, he feels calm.  “Shelf,” Tony says before he starts to move, and Steve rubs circles into his hands with his thumbs, letting him know he’s there.  Tony goes into the shelf as slowly as he can, and Steve can’t help beaming up at him as Tony lets out a soft laugh.

 

“Tuck and camel?” Steve asks after a bit, and Tony hums.

 

Steve brings his legs up as Tony straightens his, and then he’s tucking his knees in against him, slowly coming forward until the bottom of Steve’s feet are resting against his shins, and then he lifts Tony away, who starts to dip back even as Steve straightens his legs.  Tony comes into a camel backbend, and Steve stares up at him, eyes drifting over his body, and Tony’s hard.  He can see the curve of his cock beneath his shorts, and Steve’s breath catches.  He’s wearing the fucking _shorts_ , the ones that barely go to his mid-thigh, and his shirt is falling back as he deepens the bend.

 

“Steve,” Tony says, and he blinks back to the present, grunting.  “I’m gonna try something.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Steve tightens his legs, holds them together as Tony’s hands come around, circling his ankles, and then he’s pushing himself upright, legs unfolding out behind him as he balances himself on his hands before he lowers down until Steve’s toes are brushing his sternum.  He lifts backward, reaching for his ankles, pulling himself into a king bow.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, and then he’s reaching up, tipping him forward as he reaches for his shoulders.

 

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony says, coming out of bow too fast, his hands snapping forward to curl around Steve’s arms, and then Steve’s dropping his feet out from under Tony, and he hits the floor, one knee smacking against the ground.  “What the fuck, dude?” Tony whines, letting go of him and reaching back to rub at his knee.  Steve knocks his other foot out so his other knee slides down, and Tony jerks his gaze back up to him as his body comes down, straddling Steve.  He swallows, his throat shifting, and he stares at Steve, not breathing.  “Steve?”

 

“I am sick and tired of this bullshit between us,” Steve says, “I want to fuck you.”

 

Tony blinks, digests what Steve just said, and then he’s curving down, mouth fitting against Steve’s as he grinds down into his lap, rubbing their cocks together.  Steve groans, hands coming up to press Tony closer, one sliding down to his ass and squeezing, the other fisting in his hair.  He opens to Tony, letting him lick in and taste him.  Tony moves his hips in quick, fluid rolls, his breath filling Steve’s mouth as they kiss, long and hard, but it’s not enough, not fucking _enough_ , and so Steve squirms a hand beneath Tony’s yoga shorts, nails scraping over his ass.  Tony moans, breaking away to kiss down Steve’s jaw and to his neck.

 

“Too many fucking clothes,” Tony says suddenly, and then he’s pulling Steve’s hand from his pants and rolling off of him.  He reaches for the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head.  Steve quickly does the same before he’s pinning Tony to the ground, kissing his mouth until it’s swollen and red, and then he drags his teeth along his bottom lip, grinning when Tony whines, trying to press closer.  One of his hands comes up to curl around, pressing between Steve’s shoulder blades, pushing him back down even as the other flips, and Steve barely has a second to register what he’s doing before he’s dipping under the hem of his pants and cupping Steve’s cock, nothing separating him from Tony’s hand.  Steve gasps, pressing the noise into Tony’s open mouth, letting him swallow it down as his wrist twists, and then he’s pulling Steve free, other hand coming down to shove his pants away.

 

Tony squeezes up his cock, thumb pressing over the head, and Steve’s hips twitch forward as he breaks from their kiss, dropping his head to Tony’s shoulder.  “Tony,” he groans when Tony slides his hand in slow, long pulls, ruts up against him so that his cock rubs against Steve’s thigh, still hidden beneath his shorts.  He needs him naked _now_.

 

Reluctantly, Steve pulls away, sitting back on his heels, and he starts to reach for Tony’s shorts to pull them down when he sees them—long, faded scars lining the insides of his thighs.  “Tony,” he says, one of his hands drifting forward, and Tony whines when Steve’s thumb swipes over one of them.

 

“Stop fucking teasing,” Tony says, pushing at him with one of his feet, and he looks down the plane of his body at Steve, and then freezes.  “No,” he says because he recognizes that expression, has seen it plenty before.

 

“Tony,” Steve says again, still staring down at the scars, trying to pretend he doesn’t know what they are.

 

“Don’t ask,” Tony says, shaking his head, “Please don’t ask.  _Steve_ ,” he pleads when Steve continues to stare.

 

“What are these?” Steve asks, lifting his gaze to Tony.

 

“Nothing,” Tony says adamantly, “Come back here.”

 

“Tony, what are these?” he repeats.

 

“Steve,” Tony says, reaching for him, but Steve leans out of his grasp.

 

“Are these from high school?”  And, just like that, it’s over.

 

Tony kicks him _hard_ , foot swinging around until it bangs off Steve’s thigh, and he shouts, jumping in surprise.  Tony pushes away from him, getting to his feet and storming over to his dresser.  He yanks off his shorts, and Steve stares as his ass is revealed, just _there_ , but then Tony’s stepping into a pair of sweats and turning.  “Put your fucking cock away,” he mutters before he reaches for his shirt.

 

Steve slowly stands, fixing his pants, but he’s frowning as he turns to Tony.  “Did you try to kill yourself?”

 

He never thinks of what that might do to Tony, but, suddenly, Tony’s whirling around, fist sailing through the air, landing, well-aimed, in Steve’s groin, and Steve’s shout dies halfway as he drops.  “I am _done with you_!” Tony screams, yanking on his shirt, “If you touch me again, I will put you in the fucking ground!”  He yanks on a pair of shoes, grabs his jacket, and spits, “We are _done_!”

 

Steve just groans and folds over, head hitting the ground.  The door slams, and Tony is gone.

 

——

 

Betty looks over when the door bangs open, and Bruce’s brow furrows as Tony comes in still putting on his jacket.  “I am going to fucking _murder_ him,” he seethes, shoving his arm into the other sleeve.

 

“What happened?” Betty asks, frowning.

 

“I punched him in the fucking dick.”  And then he’s gone, thundering back out.  When he erupts into the chilly air, he pounds down the front steps and then skips into a jog, taking a sharp turn and heading for the gym.

 

When he gets there, he’s more furious than when he left, and he keys himself in, stomps past the front desk toward the changing rooms, and throws the door open.  He pulls open a locker, yanks off his jacket, and starts to throw it in when the door opens, and in walks _Johnny_.

 

Thor is behind him, talking his ear off about different styles of weight lifting, and Johnny’s not listening, though he quirks an eyebrow when he catches Tony looking at him.  “Shut up, Thor,” Johnny says before he comes over, leaning against the lockers.  “How are you feeling?” he asks, and Tony frowns.  “Right, you may not remember me.  You were kind of under the weather.”

 

“Saturday night?” Tony asks, and Johnny nods.  “Huh,” Tony says, pulling his bottom lip in to scrape his teeth over it.  He grins, a little feral, when Johnny’s gaze darts to his mouth.  “You slept with my roommate, Steve.”

 

“Tony,” Johnny says, eyes flicking back up to meet his, “Oh, I have heard quite a bit about you.  What are you doing later today?”

 

“I’d rather be doing you right now,” Tony says, closing his locker and turning away toward the bathrooms.

 

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” he says, looking over at Thor, “You really weren’t kidding.”

 

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Thor groans, watching Tony, “He’s easily one of the best lays I’ve ever had.”

 

Johnny just smirks wickedly and says, “I’ll catch up with you later, then,” before he follows Tony into the bathroom.

 

Tony is waiting, leaning against the wall when he rounds the corner, and he darts a hand out, fingers circling Johnny’s wrist before he tugs him into a stall, crowding him against the wall.  He kisses Johnny before he can speak, hands coming down to tug at his gym shorts, and they drop to the ground before Tony does, nosing at Johnny’s slowly filling cock before he takes it in his mouth, and he works him until Johnny’s breaths are coming hard, his fingers tight in Tony’s hair, and then he pulls off, grinning up at Johnny.

 

He stands again, licking into his mouth, and Johnny groans, nails scraping against his scalp.  When they pull apart, he grits his teeth before he says, “I don’t have a condom.”

 

“I don’t care,” Tony says, “You clean?”

 

“As far as I know, yes,” Johnny says, and then Tony’s hooking his thumbs in his own pants and pushing them down.

 

“You’re topping,” he says before he turns, bracing his hands against the walls, and Johnny just sighs and reaches a hand to squeeze Tony’s ass.

 

“With that ass, yes I fucking am,” Johnny says before he’s leaning forward, cock rubbing against Tony’s ass, and he wiggles his fingers before Tony turns his head and takes them in his mouth, sucking, tongue swirling around until Johnny’s rocking against him, and then he gives them a little push.

 

Johnny tries to go easy, slides the first finger in slowly, but Tony grunts and says, “I won’t fucking break.  Stretch me, and let’s go.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“You’re taking too long to get your cock in my ass,” he snaps, looking back at Johnny, who just grins and shrugs, thrusting another finger in.  Tony gasps, jerking forward, and it’s a little painful, but it lets him know how real this is, how sober he is, how violently furious he is.

 

Johnny fucks him fast and hard, hips slapping against Tony’s ass until he’s sure a blush is rising on his skin, fingers bruising his waist where they’re pinned, and it feels amazing.  Tony can’t remember the last time someone slid inside him like this, with nothing between them, though he thinks it may have been Luke closer to the beginning.  Johnny’s got a beautiful cock, too, thick and long, and he fills Tony on every thrust, the head rubbing over his prostate until he’s biting his fist to muffle his sounds, drawing blood over his knuckles.  He’s going to hurt later, but it’s exactly what he wants.

 

Johnny leans forward, mouthing down Tony’s spine, and Tony swallows a shout at the way that stirs something inside of him, something deep and carnal.  He takes a hand away from the wall, moving the other one over so he’s balanced, and he fists his hand over his cock, jerking himself in time with Johnny’s angry thrusts.  “Tony,” Johnny presses his name into his back, “Fuck, I’m close.”

 

“Yeah?” Tony says, a little hoarse.  Warmth pools in his belly, and he quickens his pulls, wrist flicking so that his thumb swipes up over the slit, making him shudder.

 

The door to the changing room bangs open, and a shout follows, “In the bathroom, _really_?  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

Tony digs his thumb in under the crown, and he feels a low tug as he tightens around Johnny’s cock, and he chases his orgasm, grunting when Johnny shifts, thrusting shallowly, barely coming out, pressing deep inside of him until Tony’s coming undone, cock throbbing in his hand as he comes over the wall, ass clenching spasmodically around Johnny, and it pulls him over.

 

A fist comes down on the stall door angrily.  “Get out!”

 

Tony tips his head back, hand slowing until he pulls away, and though some of the tightness is gone from his body, he still feels revved up, like he could run a fucking marathon.  He steps away from Johnny, gasping when his dick slides out of him, and Johnny sinks back against the wall, eyes closing.  “I’m not done with you,” Tony says before he pulls up his pants, yanks open the door, and delivers a punch that his hand is going to feel in the morning.

                                                                                                               

The man sent to scold them goes down, though, unconscious before he hits the ground, and Tony shrugs, turning back to Johnny.  “Is your place far?” he asks, and Johnny shakes his head, grinning.

 

“You,” he says, pointing at Tony, “You are fucking amazing.”

 

“I know,” Tony says before he steps over the fallen body and heads for the changing rooms.  Johnny grabs his things, and then they head out.

 

——

 

“Come in!” Steve calls.

 

The door opens, admitting Betty.  “Hey,” she says cautiously, coming over, “Mind if I sit down?”

 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Steve says, pulling his knees up so that she has room, “I assume Tony’s been by.”

 

“How’s your dick?” she asks, and Steve lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head.

 

“Fucking hurts,” he says, “I think I kind of deserved it, though I’m finding it really hard not to hate him right now.”

 

“Understandable.”  Betty sighs, and then she reaches out a hand, taking Steve’s.  “Sweetheart, I know you don’t want to hear this,” she says, looking down at their hands, “But I think maybe you should just call it quits with Tony.  It never turns out well, and I think, for everyone’s safety and sanity, this should be the end.”

 

“I know,” Steve says, and Betty looks up.

 

“I’m sorry.”  Steve shrugs one shoulder, looking away from her.  He doesn’t want this to happen.  He’s so furious with himself for ruining what might finally have been their chance, and now he doesn’t think he’ll ever be anything but casual friends with Tony, if that.

 

“Steve,” Betty says softly, and she waits for him to look back over before she releases his hand, “I know it sucks, but—hey, maybe you can work things out with Bucky now.”

 

Steve nods, trying for a smile.  “Yeah, maybe,” he says, “Thank you, Betty.”

 

“Are you gonna be okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright.  If you need anything, I’m right down the hall,” she says before patting his knee and then getting up.

 

When she’s gone, Steve sits there for a few moments before picking up his phone.  He waits and waits as it rings, and then, it’s like a missing piece of him slides into place when he finally answers, “Steve?”

 

“Bucky, hey,” he says, smiling.

 

——

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony groans, rolling over onto his back.

 

“I second that,” Johnny says, and then he lifts a hand, and Tony laughs, high fiving him.  They lie together in silence for a while until Johnny rolls up onto his elbow, hand coming out to trace patterns along Tony’s side.  “Okay, this is probably way off base because this is technically the first time I’ve ever spoken to you,” he says, “But you seem like a really cool guy, and I’m totally cool, as well, and I think we should be mutually cool together.”

 

“Did you just ask me to be your boyfriend by using the word cool?” Tony asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“I may have, unless that was too surfer dude for you, and then I’ll reel it back in.”

 

Tony hums, mulling it over.  Since their first kiss, it’s all he’s wanted with Steve, and though Johnny is nothing like him, he’s incredible in bed, and he’s vastly interesting, from what Tony’s gathered in their lulling moments in between fucking like Armageddon is around the corner.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Tony says, smiling, “You should know, I’m an octopus.”

 

“Human furnace, so maybe not,” Johnny says, and Tony just laughs before stretching and getting up.

 

“I’m gonna shower.  I’ll suck your dick if you give me a massage later,” Tony says.

 

Johnny slaps a hand against the bed.  “Deal.”

 

He follows Tony, coming up behind him and looping his arms around his waist, dropping a kiss to his shoulder.  Tony smiles easily, reaching up to kiss Johnny’s cheek before he releases him, and they go into the shower.

 

——

 

Steve doesn’t see Tony until Friday, though there are signs of him coming and going in the room.  Friday afternoon, just before three, the door opens, and Tony comes in.  “Shut up,” he says, pointing to Steve without looking at him.  He goes across the room, dumping his backpack on his bed.

 

“No,” Steve says, turning in his chair, “We need to talk about this.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, facing him, “Let me give you the lowdown.  There is nothing going on between us now.  I am sick of being tossed around.  I understood last semester when you were still trying to figure shit out, but now, not only have you come out, you’ve been with multiple different men, and I really thought something was going to happen.  I want to be in a relationship with you.  I’m sick of screwing around.  I am _exhausted_ , and I’m trying to take care of all of the shit I have going on.  Clearly, this isn’t going to work, so I’m done.  We are friends, and that’s it.  Right now, though, I’m having a really hard time not chewing you out, so I’m going to stay at my boyfriend’s for the weekend, and I’ll be back on Monday, and we can just put this behind us and move on.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve says, shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re seriously going back to Luke?”

 

Tony barks out a laugh, turning away and emptying out his backpack.  “I wouldn’t go back to Luke if he turned into Brad Pitt.  No, I’ll be at Johnny’s.”  Steve chokes, and Tony shrugs.  He goes to his dresser, taking out clothes as he continues, “Get over it because it’s happening.  I know you slept with him, and he knows that you’re my roommate, and, you know what, good for you because he’s fucking incredible in bed.”  Tony leaves his dresser after he’s tossed various clothes on his bed, and he goes over to his desk, getting what he needs for homework.

 

“So, what?” Steve says, “You met him, fucked him, and now you’re dating him?”

 

“Funny how that happens, yes,” Tony says, straightening and looking over at Steve, “Even after only a few days, he treats me better than a single fucking person I have had _any_ form of sex with since I started here.  Not only that, he’s attractive, interesting, and actually gives a fuck about what I think, so excuse me if I’m going to take a chance at something I want instead of waiting for you to figure your sorry ass out.  I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Steve, and it looks like this is the only way we can actually be friends.”

 

Steve doesn’t respond, and so Tony finishes gathering his school things, grabs his meds, and then stuffs everything in his backpack.  “I’ll have my phone if you need me, but please don’t,” he says before he leaves, and Steve just watches him go, feeling like a hole has been opened up inside of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and thus begins one of my—and Erin’s—favorite sections of this story. We _love_ Johnny, and some of my favorite non-superhusbands chapters are with him. Also, I should probably mention, I never intended for Johnny to play such a large part in their lives, and then, he just turned into something else, and I was very wary at first, but Erin and I really came to enjoy him, so I hope you do, as well. I think he does a lot of good for Tony and Steve individually, and, in turn, as a couple. But, if you are not enjoying this, let me assure you that in about seven chapters, we will finally reach superhusbands, and I am very excited to share it with you! I know it’s been a long journey, and I know it kind of sucks right now, that they’re so far apart from each other, but I promise you, it’s going to be worth the wait. I have to say, it’s not all fun and games once they’re together, either, like many relationships. They’re happy, of course, but there’s still life to deal with. I’m trying to make this fic as realistic as possible, and I make decisions like Johnny for a reason, so I hope you guys realize I’m not just pressing some keys together and birthing random ideas. There’s a reason for almost everything I do in this, and you know, I’m probably saying this now because there’s something coming up that I don’t think anyone has any idea about, and I’m a little afraid. In the meantime, though, I just—I want to take a moment to apologize. I know it’s been twenty-three chapters, and I know that, if I’d been reading this, I might have given up, but it’s coming, we’re almost there, and hey, it’s always darkest before the dawn, right? I am so grateful to you guys for sticking with me, and I do hope it’s been worth it so far.
> 
> Anyway, I want to do some plugging and tease something. I can’t say much about this thing that I’ve already talked a little about, but I’ve been working hard on it, and I’m very excited about it. I’m being secretive because there’s a certain point when I want to reveal it, at the start of junior year, but if I don’t tease about it at least, I’m going to go out of my mind. I can tell you these things: a) it’s related to this, b) it is a fic, c) I’m about 20k into it right now and nowhere near the end, d) that does not mean it will be anywhere near the length of this fic, which has now surpassed 200k, and e) it’s about Tony. Oh gosh, I don’t know if I should have said that last one because it’s specifically about Tony and not Steve. I’M JUST TOO EXCITED, I WANT TO TELL YOU GUYS WHAT IT IS. Erin’s going to read this author’s note, and she’s going to yell at me for saying anything. I have to wait, and you’ll appreciate that I have once you find out, and I’m going to stop now because I’m getting too fidgety.
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	24. Chapter 24

March comes around, and, with it, a lessening of snow and bitter nights.  The first week of March, Steve is trying to figure out how to ask Tony if it’s okay if Bucky comes up next weekend.

 

He’s coming back from a late night gym session when he walks in on Tony and Johnny.  He actually gets inside, the door closed, before he sees them.  Tony is perched on his knees, one hand curled around Johnny’s leg to steady himself, his head tipped back, but he looks over when the door shuts, mouth caught open in a pant.  “Dude,” he says, and Steve yelps, turning away.

 

“Guys, come on!”

 

“Tony,” Johnny murmurs, shifting up into him, and Tony groans, rolling down to meet him.

 

“Steve, just disappear for, like, five minutes, _please_ ,” Tony says, and Steve sighs, grumbling to himself as he goes back out into the hall, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

 

Like clockwork, Tony retrieves him five minutes later, sweats hanging low on his hips.  When he comes back in, Johnny is tugging a shirt over his head.  “Hey,” Steve says as he goes over to his desk.

 

“Hey man, how’s it hanging?” Johnny says, and then, to Tony, “You got any cigarettes left?”

 

Tony nods, opening his drug drawer.  He leans over, and Johnny grins crookedly, kissing him before Tony hands over the cigarette.  Johnny sticks it in his mouth as he tugs on his shoes.  “I’ll be back,” he says when he’s finished, pulling Tony toward him.  He kisses him slowly, one hand sliding through his hair.  Tony hums when he pulls away, smiling loosely.

 

When Johnny’s gone, he finds which pills he needs and goes over to Steve’s bed, flopping down.  “How was the gym?” he asks as he steals Steve’s water to drink with his meds.

 

“Good.  You should have come.  Johnny staying long?”

 

“Nah, he’s got class early.  We’ll probably hang out for a bit, if you don’t mind.  Hey, yoga?  I found a few new poses.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

They get ready, stretch out, and begin.  They’re working through lunges when Steve brings it up, “Hey, I was wondering if you’d be cool with Bucky coming up next weekend.”

 

“Yeah, of course.  I can stay at Johnny’s if you want.”

 

“You don’t have to leave.  I dunno if anything will even happen.”

 

“Sure,” Tony says sarcastically, “You’re gonna bone, let’s be real.”

 

They continue to go through the routine until Johnny comes back, groaning when he sees them.  “It’s your fault,” he says as he goes over to Tony’s bed, and Tony just laughs loudly, falling out of wild thing.

 

Johnny steals Tony’s laptop until they’re done, and then Tony stretches out his back and says, “Wanna have sex in the shower?”

 

“You,” Johnny says, already pulling off his socks, a wide grin stretching his mouth.

 

“I know,” Tony says, and it sounds fond in a way Steve wasn’t expecting.

 

When they’re gone, Steve settles in to do homework, though he gets distracted texting Bucky, and eventually, he dumps onto his bed as he calls him.  “Hey,” Bucky answers warmly, “I was just about to call you.”

 

Steve smiles.  “I can’t wait to see you next weekend.”

 

“Did you talk to Tony?”

 

“Yeah, I think he’s gonna stay over Johnny’s.”

 

“Who?”

 

“His boyfriend.”

 

“Huh,” Bucky says, “That’s interesting.  Anyway, how was your day?”

 

They talk for a while, and, when they eventually hang up, Steve wants it to be next Friday _now_.

 

When Tony and Johnny get back, Tony whines until Johnny agrees to stay a while longer, and they curl up in Tony’s bed, kissing lazily until they’re just lying together.  They talk quietly, telling stories and asking questions, and the night passes like this, easy and soft.

 

——

 

Their weekend passes fairly uneventfully—Peggy and Pepper are hosting a party on Friday, and then Rhodey’s roommate, Sam, throws one on Saturday, but they spend Sunday in their room, just hanging out, gaming and doing yoga and watching a movie after dinner.  The week passes slowly, and then, finally, Friday arrives, and, with it, Bucky.  They’re doing stand practice, Steve working on a deep shelf when someone knocks on the door.  “Come in!” Tony calls as he lays a careful hand on Steve’s knee.  “A little lower,” he says, helping Steve pull in more.

 

“Hey,” Bucky says, and Steve almost falls.

 

Tony makes a noise, smacking his foot.  “Drop out slowly,” he commands before going back to his side.

 

Steve comes out, and he means to say hello or _something_ , but he finds himself stepping in close and kissing Bucky.  He’d almost forgotten what this felt like, and he sighs when Bucky returns the kiss.  When they part, Steve smiles and says, “Hey yourself,” and Bucky laughs.

 

They spend the afternoon catching up, and Tony goes to hang out with Betty and Bruce to give them space.  They start out on Steve’s bed, sitting opposite one another, and they talk about what’s been going on, about Bucky’s brother and Steve’s sisters, about their parents and school, about military training and art classes, and then Bucky’s asking about one of the canvases leaning against Steve’s dresser, and he gets up to show it to him, flipping it around.  What they don’t talk about is the time between winter break and now, not until Bucky sighs and leans forward a little, tracing circles in Steve’s knee.  “What are we?” he asks, and Steve smiles softly.

 

“I’d like to be your boyfriend,” Steve says, and Bucky looks up at him in surprise.

 

“Really?”  Steve nods.  “Steve,” Bucky says, mouth sliding into a beam, “Are you sure?”

 

“I want to be with you,” Steve says, reaching for Bucky’s hand and tangling their fingers together, “I’ve missed you so much, and I want you in my life.  I want to be together, me and you.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky says, and then he’s leaning up and forward, kissing Steve softly, but Steve wants more, wants him closer, and he tugs lightly until Bucky goes, climbing up onto Steve’s lap and dropping down.  They kiss like that, Steve’s head tilted up as Bucky curls his hands around his jaw, holding him there, and it’s everything Steve has been looking for.

 

When they finally part, Bucky drops his head to Steve’s shoulder, turning his face in so he can press a lingering kiss to his neck, and then he lets out this little laugh that makes Steve smile and wind his arms around him.

 

After a few moments, Bucky climbs off of him and drops down onto his side, nudging Steve.  “Lie with me?” he asks, and Steve nods, shifting until he can lie on his back, and Bucky curls close, fingers drumming on Steve’s chest until Steve holds his hand, and then Bucky kisses his knuckles, smiling.

 

——

 

Tony’s working on his homework for anatomy, messaging Rhodey through facebook, when Betty and Bruce gang up on him.  Betty sits on his right, Bruce on his left, and they each look over at him.  His brow furrows, and he reaches up to tug his headphones out, looking at each of them in turn.  “I didn’t do it,” he says, and Bruce laughs, gaze drifting to Betty.

 

“Told you he was in a continuous state of guilt.”  


Tony shrugs, “Fair statement.  What’s up?”

 

“We want to talk to you about something,” Betty says, and Tony makes a face.

 

“Should I be afraid?”

 

“Maybe,” Bruce says, narrowing his eyes at Tony, “That depends on your behavior.”

 

“Well, I’ll have you know good behavior has never gotten me anywhere because I don’t know how to do it correctly,” Tony says, and Betty laughs this time, shaking her head.

 

“This is going to be fun,” Bruce says, nodding.

 

“Tony,” Betty says, “We’re considering having sex with you.”

 

Tony blinks, and then he tosses his laptop toward his feet, reaching for the hem of his shirt.  “Tony!” Betty exclaims, but he yanks it over his head and then clambers to his feet, unsteady as he starts to undo his jeans.

 

“Tony!” Bruce yells, smacking his leg.

 

“What?” Tony says, fingers twisting the button of his jeans.

 

“Not right now,” Bruce says, tugging on his pant leg.  Tony glares at him for a moment before he slides the zipper down, and Bruce rolls his eyes.  “I told you this wasn’t going to work,” he says, looking to Betty.

 

And then Tony’s jeans hit the bed.  He steps out of them and then turns again, dropping back onto the bed, left only in his boxer briefs.  “I’m just saying, I’m ready,” Tony says, folding his legs under him.

 

“Damn it,” Betty says, eyes darting over Tony’s body, “Did you start going back to the gym?”

 

“I did,” Tony says, puffing up a little, and then Bruce is looking, as well, “That’s right, take it all in.  I can catwalk, if you want.  My ass looks great, Johnny says so.”

 

“Johnny,” Betty and Bruce say at the same time.

 

“Oh, he’ll be cool with it, I just need to have a quick conversation with him,” Tony says, waving dismissively, “He’s pretty chill about anything.  Seriously, let’s go, get naked.  Come on, prep show, we’ll just check each other out, see what we’ll be working with.”

 

Betty looks over at Bruce, who shrugs one shoulder.  She tries for a goofy smile, and Bruce laughs, nodding, and so Betty pulls her shirt up over her head.  “May I?” Tony asks, looking at Bruce.

 

“May you _what_?” Bruce says, narrowing his eyes.

 

“I’ll be good, promise,” Tony says before he turns to Betty, lifting a hand to pull her hair loose so that it tumbles over her shoulders.  She’s wearing a dark green, lace bra, and Tony takes a moment to stare before he’s grinning, and then Bruce snorts.  “Hey, prep show involves some reaction,” Tony says, turning his gaze back to Bruce, who is looking at his crotch, “I know you want my cock.”

 

“Jesus, Tony,” Bruce says, looking back up at him, “You are so goddamn—infuriating.”

 

“Bruce,” Betty says, and his gaze snaps to her, and he grins when he sees her fingers drumming out rhythms on her thighs.

 

“Alright, alright,” Bruce mutters before he stands, and then he’s shedding his shirt and jeans, tossing them over the edge of the bed before he sits.

 

“Whoops, already happening,” Tony says as he darts a hand forward, fingers running from throat to belly button.  Bruce has less muscle definition than he does, but he’s still lean and fit, soft, dark curls covering his chest and thinning into a line that leads beneath his boxers that makes Tony shift a little, his other hand coming down to press against his groin.

 

“Stop that,” Betty says, slapping his knee, and he quickly lifts his hand away, turning back to her as she leans back, hips lifting off the bed as she shimmies out of her jeans.

 

Tony and Bruce make almost identical, quiet noises as she kicks them away, and she just smiles triumphantly and sits.  She’s wearing matching panties, the lace dark and thick enough that it doesn’t show off much, but it doesn’t leave much left to the imagination either.  “Those are my favorite,” Bruce admits, and Betty nods.

 

“I know.  I was going to surprise you later, but oh well.  Tony, close your mouth.”

 

“ _Why_?” he says incredulously, “You are fucking _beautiful_ , my god.  I’m so fucking jealous of you!” he adds, slapping Bruce’s thigh, making him jump.  “I just—” he breaks off, lifting his hands so he can wiggle his fingers, “I want to touch both of you so bad, it’s making me mental.”

 

Betty and Bruce exchange a look, and then Bruce reaches for Tony, hand curling around his arm so he can pull until Tony looks at him, and then he leans forward, kissing Tony, who emits a surprised noise before he returns the kiss, eyes sliding closed as Bruce slowly opens to him, letting Tony lick inside.  He gets a little lost—Bruce always tastes so wonderful, and it’s so different from what he’s used to, that he doesn’t notice Betty inching closer, and then she’s letting out a soft, excited giggle before her hand curls around Tony’s cock, and he breaks away from Bruce with a gasp, pressing their foreheads together.  “Your girlfriend is touching my dick,” Tony says, biting his lip when Betty shifts her hand, rubbing him lightly, “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this.”

 

“Uh huh,” Bruce mutters, and Tony opens his eyes, pulling back to look at him, but Bruce’s gaze is fixed on Betty’s hand.

 

“Oh, okay then,” Tony says before he turns, hand darting up to tip Betty’s head up before he kisses her, and then her hand is leaving to be replaced by Bruce’s, and Tony just decides to say fuck all, and he moves his other hand down, ghosting over Betty’s thigh before he curls it around lace, pressing lightly against her.  Betty moans softly, and Tony deepens their kiss a little, hand sliding up into her hair.

 

Bruce’s fingers skim the top of Tony’s boxer briefs, and he groans, pulling away from Betty.  “Bruce,” he whines, and it takes all of his willpower to grab his wrist and pull him away.  His jaw shifts, clenching tightly as he drops his head back against the wall, hand coming out of Betty’s hair to flatten against her sternum when she starts to lean forward.  “You two are worse than me, holy fuck,” he says, opening his eyes again, “I can’t do this.  I need to talk to Johnny first, and you need to decide if this is something you want.  _Why_ am I being the responsible one?  Hey!” he adds when Bruce starts to lean toward him, “Stop it!”

 

Tony lets go of both of them, and then quickly clambers off the bed, but, as soon as his feet touch the ground, he bends over, head pressing against the bed.  “I hate you, I hate you both so much, this sucks,” Tony whines, “I am so fucking hard now, and Johnny is on the other side of the fucking planet at his stupid college, and _balls_ ,” he straightens, hands patting the sides of his thighs, “I can’t even go in my room and jerk off, _I hate you_.”

 

“Well,” Bruce says, pointedly keeping his gaze on Tony, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to sexile you, then.”

 

“I _know_ ,” Tony groans before he reaches for his jeans.  When he pulls them up, Betty is already on top of Bruce, knees pressed against the wall as she kisses him, and Tony whines softly, wanting so badly to just crawl back toward them.

 

“Tony,” Betty says as Bruce mouths down her throat, pressing kisses to her skin, “I’m sorry, sweetie.  We’ll talk about it, and you talk about it, and we’ll reconvene on the topic, and—oh god, Bruce,” she ends in a moan as Bruce’s fingers dip below her panties.

 

“You suck, you suck, you suck _so much_ ,” Tony mutters, pulling his shirt on before he packs away his things, and, by the time he’s hooking his backpack over his shoulder, Betty’s bra is on the floor, and Bruce is tipping them over, pressing her into the mattress, and Tony just gapes, staring at them until Bruce says his name, and then he starts grumbling, banging around as he leaves, locking the door behind him.

 

When he gets out into the hall, he just stands there, unsure of where to go.  Finally, though, an idea comes to him, and he starts walking as he digs out his phone and dials Rhodey.  “Hey Tony,” Rhodey answers, “What’s up?”

 

“What are you doing right now?”

 

“Getting ready for class, why?”

 

“Wait til I get there, I’ll explain,” and then he hangs up on him, picking up the pace.

 

When he gets to Rhodey’s room, he knocks impatiently, and Rhodey pulls open the door.  “Dude, what’s—”

 

“Okay, we’re friends, right?” Tony asks, pushing past him.

 

“Tony, I have to go to class, I can’t—”

 

“Good enough friends that I can ask for a weird favor, right?”

 

“I am _not_ Tonysexual, we’ve already gone over this,” Rhodey sighs, closing the door as he turns to him.

 

“I understand that, and though it baffles me a little, it’s whatever.  I’m just going to come right out with it.  You know Betty and Bruce, yeah?  Well, they’ve kind of been talking about spicing up their love life using me, which, okay, usually I don’t like to be used, but I am so okay with this, it’s amazing, they’re beautiful, and we just kind of got a little naked and did some touching, but Steve’s in our room with his maybe boyfriend, Bucky, probably getting it on, and—”

 

“You need somewhere to stay?” Rhodey finishes for him.

 

“Well,” Tony says, stalling a little as he makes a face, but then Rhodey folds his arms over his chest, and Tony shrugs and says, “I need somewhere to masturbate.”  Rhodey makes a ridiculous, guffawing noise, and Tony quickly explains, “Technically phone sex.  I really don’t want to fucking drive all the way to Johnny’s school because it’s, like, a shit ton of minutes away, and I’m hard _right now_ , and dude, I know this is so weird, okay, I’m well aware if you’re uncomfortable, so just say the fucking word, and I’ll go in the woods or something, but I figured I’d ask.”

 

Rhodey glares at him, and then he goes over to grab his backpack before he stalks back past Tony and pulls open the door.  “My roommate gets back from class in an hour.  Don’t get your jizz on my fucking sheets,” he says, pointing at Tony, “You owe me big time, Stark,” and then he’s gone, and Tony does a little dance before running over to lock the door.

 

He dials Johnny, tosses his backpack toward Rhodey’s bed, and then starts shrugging out of his jacket, dropping it on the floor before he undoes his jeans, shoves them down and steps out of them, and then clambers onto Rhodey’s bed, flopping onto his back and dropping his hand to his belly, humming as he taps his fingers, trying to distract himself.  It takes forever for Johnny to answer, but he eventually does by way of, “Your ears must be ringing.”

 

“Hey, funny, that’s what my mom says when she’s talking about me, I—”

 

“Thinking, actually,” Johnny says, and then Tony recognizes the strain in his voice.

 

“You are my fucking soul mate,” Tony says in absolute disbelief, “What are you doing right now?”

 

“Truth or lie?”

 

“Oh, definitely the fucking truth.”

 

“Jerking off.”

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Tony groans, and his fingernails dig into his belly because he can’t yet, he has to tell him first, but fucking hell almighty he’s hard, his cock is _aching_.

 

“Are you?” Johnny asks, and Tony whines.

 

“I really fucking want to, but—damn it, I need to tell you something first.”

 

“Should I be paying attention?” Johnny asks, a little breathless, and Tony punches the mattress.

 

“Yes.  Fucking fuck _fuck_ , I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just—stop for a second, okay?”

 

“Tony,” Johnny whines, and there’s a second of tense silence before he sighs, “This better be good.”

 

“An opportunity has been presented to me, and I need to ask you about it before I jump into it, but I want you to know that I respect you as a person and as my boyfriend, and I really fucking like you, man, I do, and I don’t want this to push us apart, which is why I want to have a fast discussion about it.”

 

“If it has to do with Steve, I’m gonna say no, fair warning,” Johnny says, and Tony nods.

 

“That’s totally legitimate, but no, it has to do with Betty and Bruce.  They’ve been talking to each other about maybe shaking things up a little bit, and I recently made out with Bruce, and I’ve kind of been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and before I continue, I’m going to just tell you what happened and hope you’ll keep listening.  I may have gotten a little bit naked with them and did some over the clothes touching because they told me they’d been talking about taking the next step, and I may have made out with both of them, but, _but_ I stopped it from going any further because I wanted to talk to you, and if this is so not okay and you want to break up, I completely understand because that’s fucked up, I shouldn’t have even kissed them.  I wanted to talk to you, though, because I don’t want to cheat on you, I really don’t, I like what we have going here, it’s fucking _amazing_ , but if the opportunity arises, I really, really want to sleep with them.”

 

“Huh,” Johnny says, and Tony closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he waits.  “So, you made out with them before you called me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What kind of over the clothes touching?”

 

“Underwear.  Just a little vagina action, and they both may have touched my dick—over the clothes, of course.”

 

Johnny hums, and it’s a moment before he says, “And you’re not pursuing a relationship with them, you just want to sleep with them?”

 

“Yes, exactly.  This has been happening since September.  Well, me trying to get with them has, and they’re really open with each other and okay with a whole fuckton that I didn’t think was possible in a stable relationship, but it’s so beautiful, and they want to try this out maybe, but I wanted to talk to you first.  And, okay.  Let me just—look, if you want to end things right now, I understand.  If you don’t, and you also don’t want me to sleep with them, I won’t.  You mean a lot to me, Johnny, and I want this to work.  But, also, okay, third option, if you’re okay with it, then—well.”

 

“I might be okay with it,” Johnny says, and Tony’s eyes open as his jaw drops.

 

“ _Really_?”

 

“I get it,” Johnny says, “Surprisingly, actually.  It’s like Thor, man.  We’ve just kind of always had sex, and I’m not saying I would while I was with you, but it’s kind of, like—not platonic exactly, but there’s no real romance there, you know?  I don’t want to date him, I just want to fuck him sometimes.  Well, I mean, _be_ fucked by him, there’s no way I’d top that.”

 

“Oh, fuck no, that would be—you know, he’s a little bit terrifying when he tops, too, though.”

 

Johnny laughs, “Yeah, kind of.  Okay, can we talk more about this later?  I’m not mad right now, but I think we should discuss it more, just—Tony, it’s fucking torture just sitting here hard and not doing anything about it.”

 

“How do you feel about phone sex?” Tony asks, and Johnny groans.

 

“ _Yes_ , oh my god.  Can you?”

 

“Yeah, I’m in—yeah, I’ll tell you about that later, I’m free.  Why don’t you live closer?” he whines, and then he’s finally giving in, hand curling around his cock.  “ _Fuck_ ,” he groans as he slides a hand up, squeezing.

 

“You need to come over this weekend,” Johnny murmurs, “Fuck, I haven’t seen you in forever, fucking longest week of my life.  I miss you, Tony.”

 

“God,” Tony says, hips twitching up off the bed as he strokes himself in long, slow pulls, “I fucking miss you, Johnny.”

 

“I miss your cock, man,” Johnny groans, “I want your cock in my mouth, let you fill me and come down my throat.”

 

“ _Johnny_.”

 

“And after, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re screaming, that fucking tight ass of yours, _god_ , Tony.”

 

“Yeah?  You close?”

 

“Fuck— _yeah_.  Fucking been thinking about you all day, could barely get through classes, was so fucking hard when I got back to my room, just wanted to come over and see you.”

 

Tony whines, toes curling in the sheets a little as his pulls quicken, and then he’s sliding up, thumb pressing over the head on each pass, his balls tightening as heat pools in his belly.  “Johnny, fuck, I’m close, so fucking— _shit_ , I wish you were here.”

 

“Tony,” Johnny pants, and then his voice is dissolving into a moan.

 

“Johnny,” Tony says, back coming up off the bed a little.

 

“Fuck, Tony, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—” and he’s breaking off into a low groan.

 

Tony pushes off the bed with his feet, sliding up a little, wrist flicking as he feels a tug, and then he’s whining again, voice pitching higher as he chases his orgasm.  “Tony,” Johnny murmurs, “I wanna hear you come.  God, I wish I was there, fucking lick your mess of your belly, and—” Johnny breaks off when Tony keens, cock throbbing as he comes over his belly in long stripes, painting his skin as he works through it, breath stuttering out until he’s dropping back against the bed, trembling.

 

“Balls,” he groans, closing his eyes.

 

“Yeah,” Johnny says, sighing, “You should come over soon.”

 

“Don’t you have another class?” Tony asks, looking around for tissues.

 

“I can skip.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Astronomy, but one of the upper levels.”

 

“I’ll come with you,” Tony says, finally spotting a box and reaching over, fingers scrabbling across the desk until he can grab it.  “It’ll be fun, I’ll try to be good.”

 

“Try,” Johnny snorts, “You’re an asshole, and you know it.”

 

“Yeah, little bit.  When is it?”

 

“An hour, think you can make it?”

 

“Uh, yeah, probably.  I gotta run back to my room, which may be problematic, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.  I’ll let you know if I can make it when I get there, okay?”

 

“Yeah.  Hey,” Johnny says, and Tony sits, “This was awesome.”

 

“Fuck yeah, it was,” Tony says, grinning, “I can’t wait to see you.”

 

“Hurry up,” Johnny says before he hangs up, and Tony does as he’s told.

 

——

 

Tony comes in like a whirlwind, and Steve pulls away from Bucky, looking over.  They’re lying together, Bucky’s back to the wall and Steve turned toward him.  “Everything okay?” Steve asks, laughing when Tony almost trips trying to get out of his backpack.

 

“Glorious, actually,” Tony says, upending his bag on his bed before he starts bouncing around his side, getting clothes, books, meds, and electronics.  “I’ll be back Monday afternoon, probably, so whatever you two need to do, have fun, be safe, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, so sky is pretty much the limit, and most of all, do it _a lot_ ,” he says, flashing them a grin before he starts stuffing things in his bag, “There’s a party tomorrow night that you should definitely come to because it’s going to be badass, and it’s at Johnny’s place, which is off campus, yeah, but it’s not too far, and I think I convinced Betty and Bruce to go, so you could grab a ride from them because I’m taking my car, or hey, you have a car, Bucky, so that works.  Shit,” he says, straightening.

 

“What’s up?” Steve asks.

 

“I can’t remember if I left my favorite lube at Johnny’s or if I’m out.  Damn it, ass monkeys,” he mutters, rifling through his drawers before making a disgruntled noise and forgoing the search, opening his drug drawer and tossing bottles toward his bed.

 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, and Tony slaps his forehead.

 

“Right, I don’t want that,” he says, taking the Abilify and throwing it back in his drawer.  He sorts through what’s on his bed, mumbling to himself, “Diuretics, check, anticoagulants, check, Xanax, check, inhaler—Steve, have you seen my inhaler?”

 

Steve frowns, and they share a glance before Tony remembers, and Steve nods, pointing to his dresser.  Tony goes over, and Bucky arches an eyebrow.  “Why’s it on your side?” he asks quietly.

 

“I don’t actually remember.  I think things were being thrown.”

 

“I was having a tantrum,” Tony says, tossing it toward his bed before he goes back to his drawer, “Epipen, right, just in case.  _Oh_ , hash, yes, do I have any left?”  He spins around and disappears into the closet, coming back out victorious.  “Okay,” he says finally, pulling on his jacket and then shouldering his backpack, “Have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow.  Bucky, your boner is showing,” and then he’s gone, and Steve looks over at Bucky, trying his hardest not to laugh, but Bucky gives him a little shove, and Steve breaks, falling into him as he laughs.  Bucky just grumbles, though he’s grinning a little when Steve presses a kiss to his jaw.

 

“We should get food,” Steve says, leaning away.

 

“Let’s go out for dinner,” Bucky says, and Steve nods, smiling.

 

“Yeah, that sounds awesome.”  And so they pretend they’re going to get out of bed, make out for a bit, and then finally get ready and leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently coming to you from my brand new bedroom. I’m almost entirely moved in. If you’ve been following my Tumblr updates, you know all about it, but I’ve got my bed—which is on the floor, and I’m very excited about that—my two bookshelves—again, very excited, because I’ve only ever had one, and I’ve never had enough room for my books, even though my bookshelf is six feet tall—my altar, my desk—which I built myself, that’s right—my beautiful blue ombre curtains, my prayer flags, my new plants—I have three, though I’ve only named two of them; there’s a small bamboo sitting on my windowsill, and then the two on my second bookshelf, Fred and George, are a snake plant and pothos plant, respectively—most of my wall hangings, and the only thing left is my closet organizer, which my dad has promised to put in tomorrow. I’m just a bundle of energy these days, working as much as I can so I can spend my last week free before I start training to be a manager come June first. Anyway, I’m sure this is not what you guys actually want to hear about.
> 
> You guys don’t even know, I am so excited for the next chapter, I might explode. It’s my _favorite_ party scene ever in this whole fic—that may not be true, I haven’t finished writing this—and there’s just _so much_ that happens, and it’s so amazing, and oh my god, I can’t wait to post it. However, we’re not there yet—it is the most epic party ever, and you guys should be pumped, too, because I’ve been talking about it so much throughout this—so I hope you enjoyed this one, and I’m very curious to know your reactions to Tony and Johnny. I had so, so much fun writing them together, so let me know what you think, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is an epic music note! This is, as I said in my closing notes of last chapter, my favorite party of this fic so far. It was an absolute blast to write, and yes, all 4k words of it is a party, but it’s badass, guys, it’s so amazing, I love it. I have a lot of music recommendations to throw at you, so here we go. I think the best way to read this chapter is to listen, in this order, to the following songs: [Die Young by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WP43WfbXTU), [Powerless (Enferno Remix) by Linkin Park](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sVBRjh7RCU), [Burn it Down (Tom Swoon Remix) by Linkin Park](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1-W874Xgak), and I think that should be good.
> 
> ii. Also, this is literally just a party and porn. There is no substance to this chapter, and I don’t really care because I think it’s fun and I think we deserve it after everything, but this is fair warning.

Saturday night rolls around, and though Tony’s been to plenty of parties throughout high school and thus far in college, it’s nothing quite like what happens at Johnny’s.

 

Johnny lives off campus in a warehouse loft apartment, and he makes Tony get up early so they can prepare, clearing out everything but the two sofas from the living area and piling it in his storage closet.  Aside from the living area, the first floor leaks into a kitchen, and then a long, wide hall that opens up beneath the high staircase, which leads to the second floor.  Upstairs, there are three rooms, originally designed as a two-bedroom apartment, but Johnny’s sister and her husband are swinging the other half of the rent for him as long as he keeps his grades up.  The third room, Johnny transformed into a small lab, which is Tony’s favorite room, though they lock it up before everyone arrives.

 

And then, as nine o’clock rolls around and people start arriving, Johnny disappears into his room where a switchboard resides, and the apartment flares on with black lights.  Strobe lights come on, as well, though intermittently, and Tony digs out the paint and sets up a small station at the island in the kitchen.

 

By ten, everyone has stripped out of their layers, revealing painted skin, and the loft glows as music thunders through.  Tony is skipping his meds this weekend, and so he’s tipping past buzzed when the door opens, admitting Steve, Bucky, Betty, and Bruce.  He’s long since lost his shirt, but he thinks Johnny was the one that lost it, who is currently pressed close to him, hands pinned on his hips.  Both of their torsos and backs are covered in colorful designs, and Tony’s hair is sticking up wildly because Johnny keeps tugging on it, but, when he sees the door open, he twists in his hands, kisses him hard, and then hurries off.

 

“You made it!” he yells over the music when he reaches them, and he hugs Betty and Bruce before herding them over to the kitchen, where he finds another drink and gets them painted.  Betty reveals her half shirt and little shorts, which Bruce immediately eyes her for, grinning wickedly, and then she skips forward and yanks off his shirt.  Tony just catcalls and kisses each of them before grabbing a drink for Johnny and plunging back in.

 

Johnny is in a throng of women when he approaches, but, as soon as he spots him, Johnny slips right out, aw’s along with the girls whining that he’s leaving them, and says, “Sorry, darlings, my handsome boyfriend has returned.”  He tugs Tony toward him, fingers threading in his hair, and he tips him back for a bruising kiss until Tony’s panting, and he leans in closer, pressing the line of his denim cock against Johnny’s thigh.

 

“Your room?” he asks, and Johnny nods, plucking the drink out of Tony’s hand and lifting it.  They each tip back their drinks, and then Johnny takes his hand and leads Tony away.

 

“This is—wow,” Bucky says as they approach Betty and Bruce in the kitchen, Betty giggling as the paintbrush runs over her skin.

 

“Not like this at military school?” Bruce teases, “Just wait, the night is still young.  If Johnny parties anything like Thor, it’s going to be a wild night.”

 

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods.

 

“Yeah, just a bit of a sensory overload.  We don’t really party a lot, and when we do, it’s nothing like this.  This is—this is a whole other level.”

 

“We can leave, if you want.”

 

“No, I want to stay,” Bucky says, determined, “It’s gonna be fun.  So, are we getting painted, or what?”

 

Steve just grins and shrugs out of his jacket.

 

Upstairs, Johnny pins Tony against the wall, pressing hotly against him, mouths fused together like they’ll never come up for air again.  Johnny yanks open his jeans, twisting a hand inside and pulling Tony’s cock free, jerking him hard and fast until Tony’s gasping and pushing Johnny away, chest rising and falling quickly.  They stare at each other for a few seconds before Johnny reaches for his jeans, and Tony shoves his down, kicking them off before he charges toward Johnny, and they meet in a clash of bodies, Johnny barely stumbling them back to the bed before Tony’s knocking them over, and they hit the mattress with a thud, Tony grinding down into Johnny’s lap.

 

“Johnny,” Tony groans, kissing down his front, mindful of the paint, “I want you to fuck me til I scream.”

 

Johnny just grins and unbalances Tony, sending him tumbling over.  He gets off the bed, Tony’s legs draped over the edge, and he goes over to his nightstand, pulling open the top drawer and grabbing Tony’s favorite mint lube, as well as a condom.  “Knew I left it here,” Tony says, and Johnny laughs.

 

He pulls Tony’s knees up, heels perched on the edge of the bed, and he pauses to kiss his thigh before he stretches him, fingers moving quickly and easily, a dance that’s already familiar to them.  He fucks Tony like this, pulling his ass up to meet his cock, one of Tony’s legs draped over his body and curling around his shoulder, the other hooked over Johnny’s elbow, Johnny’s hands wrapped tightly around his hips.  It’s an angle they haven’t tried before, one that lets Johnny slide a little deeper, and though his legs start to tremble from standing for so long, it’s worth it for the noises Tony makes, back bowing up toward Johnny as he tries to take him in further.

 

“Tony,” Johnny gasps, leaning toward him, and Tony cries out as his legs stretches, Johnny’s cock pressing inside of him, hips snug against his ass.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Johnny,” Tony says, shuddering.  Johnny drops him down onto the bed and then climbs on, sitting against the headboard, and Tony just grins before crawling over to him, turning his back to Johnny and lowering himself back down onto his cock, knees pressed against Johnny’s thighs as he rides him.

 

It’s not enough for either of them, though, and so Johnny presses a hand between Tony’s shoulder blades until he tips over onto his hands and knees, and Johnny takes his hips and snaps forward, pulling a low shout from Tony.  Johnny comes this way, fucking into Tony until they’re both shaking, and Tony drops down onto his forearms, panting as Johnny slows and then pulls out, giving Tony’s side a push so he topples over onto his side.  He pushes him again until he’s on his back, and then he’s dipping down and taking Tony’s cock in his mouth, and he sucks until Tony’s keening, hips twitching up toward Johnny as he comes down his throat.

 

After Johnny’s licked him clean, he drops onto his back next to Tony, who curls in toward him, and they kiss lazily until Johnny’s hand is drifting over Tony’s ass, fingers skimming his entrance, and Tony whines, shifting away.  “Give me at least a half hour, Jesus,” he says, and Johnny laughs.

 

“I just love your ass is all,” Johnny says, and Tony grins.  “Hey,” Johnny adds, slapping his chest, “I totally forgot, I got us something.”  He kisses Tony lightning quick before getting up and heading over to his dresser, dropping down and opening the bottom drawer, popping a false bottom and pulling a small baggy out and holding it up.

 

“What is it?” Tony asks, rolling over onto his stomach and dropping his head into his arms.

 

“Fucking barbs, man, we are gonna be _flying_ tonight,” Johnny says, grinning widely as he stands.  Tony looks up, worrying his lip with his teeth.  “What?” he asks, deflating a little as he comes over, sitting on the bed again and looking down at Tony, “Everything okay?”  He runs a hand through Tony’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

 

“Yeah, just—” Tony breaks off, looking at the small pills in Johnny’s palm.  “I’ve built up a fairly excellent tolerance,” he says, taking one, “But try to keep an eye on me, okay?  Don’t let anyone give me anything else.”

 

Johnny nods, leaning down to kiss him before he whispers against his mouth, “No one will touch you tonight but me.”

 

Tony smiles and pops the pill in.  “Come on,” he says, kissing Johnny’s jaw before he rolls off the bed and pulls on his jeans.

 

They head out after they’ve dressed, rejoining the party.

 

Steve can tell Bucky’s out of his element, but he’s trying, and, for that, he does his best to make him feel comfortable, bringing him first over to the drinks to find them something while Betty and Bruce jump right in.  The crowd of dancing bodies is a mess of color and blazing light, a wild crescendo building that Steve can feel thundering through him, and Bucky just watches it all until Steve leans in, kissing his ear.  He thinks about this morning, about Bucky turning over and kissing him until they were both breathless, how he’d nudged Steve onto his back and hooked a knee on either side, slowly rocking them together until Steve was swearing and begging to be inside of him, and Bucky had just grinned and started stripping.  It had been some of the most amazing sex he’s ever had, and now, all he wants to do is press them together and let sound thrum heavily through their veins.

 

“Wanna dance?” he kisses the words into his ear.

 

Bucky nods, and as he turns, the bass drops, and strobe lights flare on.  Steve looks up in amazement, sees Tony coming down the stairs with Johnny in tow, and takes Bucky’s hand, pulling him in.  He shows him how to get lost, how to open up to the beauty around him and just surrender.

 

Somehow, they slide deeper and deeper into the mass of teeming bodies until Steve can see them.  Tony’s in his element here, arms looped up around Johnny’s neck, one hand curled around the back of his neck, the other cradling the base of his head as Johnny’s hands move possessively over him, his mouth dancing over Tony’s neck and shoulders, up his arms before he presses his grin against Tony’s jaw.  They move so easily together, it makes Steve ache a little, but then Bucky’s sliding a hand up his front, and Steve looks back to him, pulling him close and kissing him.

 

The night wanes on, loud and powerful and wild.  Thor shows up halfway through, roaring, and everyone yells in response before Thor’s making a beeline for Johnny and Tony, and Tony squeaks when Johnny ducks out of the way, giving Thor plenty of room to drop a shoulder and lift Tony into the air.  “Thor, god of thunder!” Johnny cheers, beating his chest.

 

Thor lets out a crazed yell, and Tony laughs loudly before he calls down to Johnny, “I think he’s going to carry me off and do terrible things to me!”

 

“My conquest awaits!” Thor shouts, starting to storm away, but Tony lets out a frightened yelp, and he drops him down, giving his ass a good slap before he heads off.

 

“I’m feeling a little violated,” Tony admits, and Johnny laughs, coming over and kissing him.

 

They get moved with the rhythm of the people around them, but they’re lost in each other, mouths moving slowly, tasting each other until Johnny pulls away, gasping for breath.  “Shall we, my paramour?” Johnny purrs, and Tony flashes him a wicked grin.

 

“I am yours to command,” he says, and Johnny cackles before doing the exact opposite of what Tony expects and pulling him deeper into the pulsing bodies.  They dance like there’s no one around them, one of Johnny’s hands sliding down Tony’s body until it’s dipping beneath his jeans, and Tony just presses back against him, putting his ass to work until Johnny’s groaning, his hand moving quicker over Tony’s cock.  “Johnny,” Tony pants, reaching a hand back to curl around Johnny’s jaw as he tips his head back, and Johnny licks into his mouth, his other hand coming up to pin Tony there, thumb hooking under his jaw.

 

Tony pulls away with a shudder, and says, “I’m gonna fucking come in my pants if you don’t stop,” and so Johnny takes his hand away and herds Tony out of the crowd.

 

“Jesus,” Bucky says not far away as he catches sight of them, just before they exit, Johnny’s hand in Tony’s pants, their bodies pressed so close, he can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.  Steve looks up, and his eyes widen in surprise as Tony pulls away from Johnny, mouth moving.  Johnny grins, and then they’re leaving, and he hates that it stirs something in him, that he lets a hand drift down Bucky’s body, though Bucky turns before he can make a move.  “Really?” Bucky says, looking up at him.

 

“Let’s go find somewhere quiet,” Steve says, and Bucky stares at him for a moment before he nods.

 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Bucky says, and so Steve takes his hand, leading him away.

 

They go upstairs and try the first room they come upon, but it’s locked, though the second one isn’t, and Steve steps in, Bucky behind him, and he should have fucking expected that they wouldn’t remember to lock the door.

 

Tony’s in quite the convoluted position, one leg hooked over Johnny’s shoulder, toes pointing up toward the ceiling, the other hooked over his elbow, and Johnny’s as close to him as he can get, mouthing down Tony’s throat.  He fucks him hard, jerking them both with each fast thrust, though he looks over, slamming in and stilling when the door opens.  Tony whines, back bowing off the bed as Johnny stops.  “The fuck,” he starts to complain, but then he follows Johnny’s gaze, and he actually lets out a yell, slapping the bed.  “Get _out_!” he shouts, and then Johnny’s grinning as he looks back down at Tony, and he rolls his hips slowly, shifting so that he rubs over Tony’s prostate, and Tony’s anger dissolve into a high cry as Johnny picks his rhythm up again.

 

Bucky has to grab Steve and pull him out because they’re both a little frozen by the sight, but then, when they’re in the hall, Steve can’t stop thinking of that noise Tony had made, the ways his toes had curled in the air, the shift of his body as Johnny had fucked him, and he kisses Bucky before he can see it in his face.

 

The first room’s door bangs open, and a couple stumbles out, and Steve just steers Bucky toward it, slamming the door shut and locking it.  He knows Bucky is a little drunk, and he takes advantage of it, not giving him time to speak as he kisses him, pressing him against the wall.  He rids him of his jeans and then drops to his knees, and Bucky gasps when Steve takes his hard cock in his mouth, swallowing him down until his nose brushes Bucky’s belly, and Bucky moans, fingers fisting in Steve’s hair.

 

He works him until Bucky’s pulling him off, saying, “Fucking hell, Steve,” and then he stands again, jerking his head toward the bed, and Bucky nods before stepping close, undoing Steve’s jeans.

 

They tumble onto the bed, and Steve sees a flash of Tony bowing off the mattress, trying to press closer, and he moans, pushing up one of Bucky’s knees before he kisses him, dicks sliding together so that Bucky shudders.  This morning was tender, careful and exploratory, but now, Steve wants to fuck him, wants to tear him down until Bucky’s trembling from the aftershocks.

 

“Steve,” he groans, and Steve leans over, grabbing his jeans and pulling them over so he can rifle through his pockets for a condom.

 

“This okay?” Steve asks before he’s reaching for Johnny’s nightstand, assuming he keeps everything in here.  He finds lube before sitting back on his heels, and Bucky’s just staring at him like he’s got the world in the palm of his hand.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says breathlessly, and so Steve allows a small smile and then slicks his fingers before leaning forward, rubbing the pad of one over Bucky’s entrance.  When he slides inside, Bucky gasps, and though he knows Bucky has been with men before, is far more used to this than Steve is, he doesn’t want slow sex right now.

 

If he’s honest with himself, he wants this to be Tony beneath him, wants to wake up next to him and trace the bruises _he_ put there.

 

He stretches Bucky until he’s whining, and then he jerks himself a few times, rolls the condom on, and slowly presses inside of him, groaning when his hips are flush against Bucky’s ass.  “Bucky,” he says, looking down at him, and there’s something carnal there, something that lets Steve know he can push the edges a little, fray them and open them up, and so he takes his hips in his large hands, looming over Bucky as he grins down at him, and Bucky shouts when he slides out and rocks back in, picking up a pace that neither of them are going to last long for.

 

He moves like this, Bucky trembling beneath him as his hips snap against his ass until one of Bucky’s feet is pressing against his back, and he leans down, pressing them close, and a moan echoes in his ear, _fuck, Steve_ , and his chest is tight like someone is pressing against his sternum, nails scraping over his skin, and he closes his eyes as he kisses Bucky, and all he can feel is Tony, pulling them closer and closer to the edge, sweats baring real contact, a golden glow washing over them as Tony’s voice pitches into a cry as he follows Steve over, and he gasps, breaking away to press his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“Bucky,” he says, his thrusts getting a little erratic, “Fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna—”

 

“Yeah?” he hears Tony say even though he knows it’s Bucky’s voice.

 

He twists a hand between them, fists Bucky’s cock in his hand and gives him one, long pull before he’s skipping into a rhythm to match his hips, and Bucky’s moans get higher, teetering toward a cry.  He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to find his calm—he wants Bucky to come first, wants to feel his ass tighten around him, and then, as he’s shifting until he’s barely pulling out, Bucky shouts and comes, knee pressing against Steve’s ribs, and Steve presses closer to him.

 

He tries to hide it in Bucky’s neck, tries to kiss it away so it won’t come out, tries to swallow it down, but it tumbles out of him as he trips over the edge, Bucky’s ass clenching around him as his cock throbs, and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t fucking mean to—“ _Tony_.”

 

——

 

Bucky doesn’t hear him.  After they both come down, they lie together for a bit, and then, when they’re calm again, they go back downstairs, and Bucky is plastered to him, grinning loosely and moving easily, but Steve feels like he’s cheated, feels like he shouldn’t be touching him.  He starts to say that he doesn’t feel well, that they should head home, when he looks up, and he sees Tony alone, arms in the air, dancing freely to the music thundering around them, but it’s not that that gives him pause, but the man walking toward him, and Steve’s breath catches.

 

“Tony,” he whispers, pushing away from Bucky.  “I’ll be right back!” he calls over his shoulder before he plunges in, trying to push through the crowd as Luke gets closer, but then he’s swallowed up by a throng of jumping women, and he swears, shoving through them.  When he comes out on the other side, Luke’s arms are looped around Tony’s waist, head tipping down toward his neck, and Steve can’t seem to get there.

 

He starts to run, and then, almost out of thin air, Johnny appears, one hand darting up to fist in Luke’s hair before he yanks him away.  Tony turns, bewildered, and then he staggers back a step, staring, wide-eyed.  “Is this him?” Steve hears Johnny ask, and Tony nods.  “Don’t you ever fucking touch him again,” Johnny says, shoving Luke away.

 

“Let me guess, his new infatuation?” Luke sneers, coming forward, but Johnny steps in front of him, and Luke stops.  Johnny towers over him, his broad shoulders straightening out as he stares down at him.

 

“His boyfriend,” Johnny corrects, and Luke’s gaze snaps over to Tony.

 

“What?”

 

“I think you should leave,” Johnny says calmly, and Luke opens his mouth to argue, so Johnny punches him, hard enough that Luke hits the ground.  Tony lets out a cheer, fists going in the air, and Johnny just grins and turns halfway, head tipping down as Tony reaches up to kiss him.  Luke starts to rise, and Tony points to the door without breaking away from Johnny.  To Steve’s astonishment, Luke goes.

 

When he’s gone, Tony pulls back, smiling fondly up at Johnny.  “Thank you,” he says, and Johnny just nods, reaching for his hand and tugging Tony off.  Steve watches them head for the stairs, knows where they’re going, knows what they’re going to do, and he hates himself for hating Johnny.

 

“Hey,” Bucky says, appearing at his elbow, “Is everything okay?  You don’t look so great.”

 

“I kind of feel off,” Steve lies, turning and frowning, “Do you mind if we head home?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky says, offering him a small smile, and Steve wants to kick himself for tricking Bucky into this again, for tricking himself into believing he wasn’t still mad about Tony.

 

——

 

The party has started to die down a little when Johnny finds Betty and Bruce, and he’s had enough to drink that he almost falls when he reaches them, but Betty catches him, giggling.  “Hello, Johnny,” she says, “Amazing party, by the way.”

 

“Thank _you_ ,” Johnny says proudly as he pulls himself upright and points at both of them, a dopey grin on his face, “ _I_ —yes, me, I—have a bone to pick with you two.  _I_ think that you two—yes, the two of you, you and you, Betty _annnnnd_ Bruce—should have sex with my _boyfriend_.  His name is Tony.”

 

Bruce laughs.  “We know who he is, Johnny.”

 

“Do you?” Johnny says, suddenly wide-eyed, “Because I can’t find him.  _Tony_!” he hollers, trying to turn and stumbling so that both of them have to reach out and steady him.

 

“John _ny_!” Tony’s voice echoes through the loft before he comes dancing through the crowd, jazz hands going.  “What is _up_ , torch?” he says, leaning into Johnny, who silences him with a misjudged kiss, and so his mouth lands on Tony’s shoulder.  Tony giggles, “You’re drunk.”

 

“Yup,” Johnny says, straightening and grinning, his eyes nearly closed, “I was just telling these two beautiful people—you two,” he says, attention swiveling back to them, “You— _you_ should have sex with him.  Have you seen this man?  His _ass_ is like ice cream.  It’s _that good_.”

 

“I want ice cream,” Tony whines, “Johnny, I brought over the smelly stuffs, we should _smoke it_ , and then find ice cream.”

 

“After they fuck you,” Johnny says.

 

Tony shakes his head.  “No, no, that’s—that’s for a later date.  You and _me_ should have sex.”

 

“You and _I_ ,” Johnny corrects him.

 

“Yes, that’s what I said.  I don’t think I can get it up, though.  Betty!” he exclaims suddenly, finally noticing them, “Bruce!  Guys, we’ve had _a lot_ of sex tonight, and now my dick is sore, but I _love_ your cock,” he turns to Johnny, “I love it so much, it’s my favorite lollipop.”

 

“Candy,” Johnny says sadly, and Tony nods.

 

“Okay,” Tony says after a space of silence, slapping Johnny’s tummy, “I’m sleepy.”

 

“Mm, bed,” Johnny hums before he lets Tony pull him away, and Betty and Bruce just watch them go, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o! I love this party, I really do. It’s totally inspired by whatever episode that is in 3b of _Teen Wolf_ when Danny throws the black light party, which was awesome, and so I had a lot of fun writing this. Get ready, though, because the next chapter contains a whole slew of things. It is a rollercoaster of emotions, and it was very hard for me to write, but there’s also something that happens at the end that I’m very excited for, though I’m not going to spoil it because I want you guys to freak out when you read the last line and realize what it means. Anyway, I’m rambling incoherently now, so I'm going to leave you with a last thought. If you have HBO, go watch _The Normal Heart_ immediately, but do so with an entire box of tissues and the knowledge that it will destroy you. In the meantime, don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. Fair warning, something is going to happen between Tony and Luke in this chapter that has to do with one of the many warnings of this story. Because I’m putting a note before the chapter, I’m going to safely assume you can figure out which one it is so I don’t intentionally spoil anything. It happens in the first scene, and though Luke doesn’t get far and it’s over relatively quick, it will be the focus of this chapter. I would also like to take this moment to note that, yes, I did consciously put the second half of this chapter with the first half. I think that’s actually a pretty viable reaction from Tony after that, thinking on his character in this, so no, I’m not trying to be insensitive, I just believe that it fits.
> 
> ii. I have officially begun one of my yoga subplots for Steve and Tony in this chapter, so, if you’re interested in what their routine will ultimately look like one day, [here’s the video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xECiTdgy9nE) I’m modeling it after.
> 
> iii. This is a music note! Things. Following that note about Luke, there’s a song for that scene, [Tuning Out… by Bastille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tz7UHGnjq4). It’s fucking creepy, and it terrified me while writing, but I think it really fits. Along with that acroyoga video, I’d recommend listening to [Weight of Us by Sanders Bohlke](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZiDlT94vp4), which is where the first ever line (lyric) of this fic comes from, and where the lyric that begins the next chapter also comes from. I think the lyrics really fit well with Steve and Tony during the acroyoga scene, where they are in their lives with each other, and every time I listen to it, it makes me so happy, just thinking about how much they love each other.

None of them see it coming.

 

Tony comes back early, and he calls Steve on his way over, giving him fair warning.  When he gets there, Bucky is still around, but Steve frowns as he comes in, sitting up in bed.  “Are you okay?” he asks.

 

“I’m fine,” Tony mumbles, though he’s a little sluggish as he toes off his shoes and then makes his way over to his bed, “I’m sorry, I know you probably want to bone before Bucky leaves, but I need to pass out.”  He manages to get his backpack off, and then he’s tugging back the blankets and curling up in bed.

 

He hears Steve pause, and then he’s lying back down with Bucky, and Tony closes his eyes, bringing one of his hands up to rest against his chest.  He’d woken up gasping for breath this morning, had barely gotten into the bathroom before he was having a minor asthma attack, and now his heart is thundering in his chest, and though it’s faster than normal, it’s not bad enough that he’s worried about it yet.  He’s hung over, too, and all he wants to do is pass out and sleep it all off.

 

Tony vaguely registers Steve leaving with Bucky, and then he’s letting go, drifting off into a deep slumber, his aching body finally settling in to relax.

 

The door opens an hour later, but Tony is out cold, and so he doesn’t hear the lock click, doesn’t hear boots clunk against the ground, doesn’t feel his bed dip when a knee comes down on the edge, doesn’t feel the blankets being pulled back, a hand running down his spine before his boxer briefs are being tugged off.  He misses all of it, recalls it later only because it makes sense, but he wakes when a slick finger slides inside of him, jerks him out of unconsciousness as he lifts his head, looking back.

 

Tony flips and kicks, and Luke almost dodges it, but Tony clips him in the side before he scrambles up, but Luke is on top of him, shoving him back down onto the bed, and Tony throws a wild fist, another flying as the first lands on Luke’s shoulder.  The second Luke catches and tosses away from him before he tightens a hand around Tony’s hip, nails biting in and drawing blood before he flips him.  Tony kicks out again, heel stabbing into Luke’s thigh, and then he sucks in air to scream when his throat closes, catching on his inhale, panic flooding through him as he tries to release it, tries to push the exhale out, but then his heart is tripping out of rhythm, and Tony claws at his chest, wheezing.

 

“Think you can just fucking dump me for some blonde bimbo.  Where’s your boyfriend now, huh?” Luke grunts, and then the scream filters through, high-pitched and awful, not quite right because Tony can’t find air, can’t breathe, can’t _fight_.

 

He struggles, trying to push up away from the bed, but Luke’s hand comes down, closing around the back of his neck, fingers digging into his throat, his other hand sliding along his back and then lifting away before it jabs back down, knocking the wind out of Tony until he’s choking.

 

He can feel him everywhere, and he wants to die.

 

He doesn’t, though, and so Tony shoves up, throws an elbow as his chest constricts, vision going black at the edges.  Luke punches his elbow after it catches him in the side, and Tony’s arm rockets back down.  He needs help, he realizes—he can’t do this on his own, and so he closes his eyes, reaching desperately for his calm, enough that he can suck in a thin breath and let it out as loud as he can.

 

The door opens, and Steve comes in, hanging his keys up and starting to take his jacket off when he turns and he stops, staring.  The door shuts behind him with a dull thud, and then Steve lunges forward.  He sees red, knows only that Tony is struggling weakly beneath _Luke_ , and then his hands are on him, arms tightening around Luke’s midsection as he yanks back and then up, lifting him into the air.  Luke yelps a second before Steve throws him, and he hits the ground like dead weight, limbs crumbling around him.

 

Steve spins, reaches down and grabs the first body part he finds, Luke’s ankle, and pulls, dragging Luke across the ground.  He drops to his knees, one on either side, and that’s how he bruises his knuckles until his fingers are stiff for days.

 

Tony falls off the bed as he tries to get up, shaking as he tries desperately to breathe.  He wants to let Steve beat Luke senseless, but he needs him right now, and so he pushes onto his feet and just throws himself forward, landing on Steve, shoving him over enough that it seems to pull Steve from whatever blind rage he was in.  “Tony,” he gasps, and then Luke is scrambling away, and he whips around as Tony grabs at him, pleading with his hands, but Luke is already gone, limping out the door.

 

“Steve,” Tony forces out, and then Steve’s gathering him in his arms, Tony curling against him.

 

“Did you take your meds this morning?” Steve asks, his voice clipped and angry.  Tony shakes his head.  Steve goes over to his desk, pulls out what he needs, takes Tony’s shower caddy and a towel, and then carries him out and down the hall.

 

He brings him into the handicap stall, closes them in, and then turns on the water, setting Tony’s things down before he steps into the shower, still fully clothed, dropping down just out of the spray’s reach.  He shifts Tony until he’s in his lap, and Tony curls into him, trembling as Steve winds his arms around him, holding him tightly.

 

He sits with him until Tony starts to calm down, murmuring softly to him and rubbing his back, and he even starts to rock back and forth, anything that will pull Tony back.  When his breathing is finally starting to slow, Steve carefully moves until he can reach his meds, and then he helps him take them before he’s handing over his inhaler.  Tony applies it twice before leaning against Steve, just sitting there until he doesn’t feel like he’s going to shatter apart anymore.  “Thank you,” he whispers, and Steve leans down, pressing a kiss to Tony’s forehead.

 

“What do you want me to do right now?”

 

“I want to shower,” Tony mumbles, pushing away from Steve, “But can you stay in the stall?”

 

“Of course,” Steve says before he helps Tony stand, waiting until he’s sure he’ll be alright on his own, and then he goes to sit against the wall.

 

When Tony’s done, Steve wraps him up, takes his things, and then helps him back down the hall, and he starts to steer Tony toward his own bed, but Tony ducks away from his touch and goes to Steve’s bed.  Steve just shrugs and puts his things away, finds him clothes, and then pulls him to his feet.  “Dry off, and put these on,” Steve says before he goes to get out of his own sopping clothes.

 

When they’re both dry and wearing pajamas, Tony crawls over to the wall, carefully lying down.  Steve lingers, but then Tony looks up at him and says, “I don’t want to be alone.  Please, Steve.”

 

After a moment, Steve nods, coming over.  He lies down opposite Tony, facing him, and he wants to scoot closer so bad, wants to fold Tony away in his arms and promise him everything will be alright, wants to leave it all behind until it’s just the two of them, _tonyandsteve_.

 

“Steve,” Tony whispers, “Can I ask you a favor?”

 

“Whatever you need.”

 

“Please don’t tell anyone.  Please,” and then he’s breaking apart, inhaling sharply as tears well up in his eyes, and Steve closes the distance lying heavy between them, pulls Tony against him as he shakes.  “I thought it was over,” he gasps, shoulders jumping as a sob builds in his chest and shatters out, “I thought it was over, I thought it was over, _Steve_.”

 

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers, and he starts to rub Tony’s back, but he pushes against his chest, away from Steve, who starts to ask what’s wrong when Tony lifts his hands, which are trembling.

 

“Can you hold them?”  Steve quickly winds their fingers together, their arms tangling as Tony squeezes his hands, fingers pressing tightly, and Steve gets it, knows he doesn’t want to hurt himself from clenching his fists too tight.

 

He runs circles over Tony’s hands with his thumbs as Tony’s chest heaves, breath wheezing in and out of him.  Steve leans their foreheads together, closing his eyes.  “Just breathe,” he whispers.

 

“I thought it was over,” Tony chokes out, “I don’t want to be this person anymore, and I know I fucked up, I—I know I did, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t want this, _Steve_.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“They raped me in high school, and I thought it was over, I thought I could get away from it, I thought I could be different, and I fucked up so bad, and—”

 

“Tony—”

 

“Steve, make it stop,” he pleads, pressing closer, “Make it stop, _please_.”

 

“Hey,” Steve says, his voice a little firmer this time, pulling away so he can see Tony, “Look at me.”  He waits until Tony’s gaze slides up to meet his, and then he says, “Nothing is going to happen to you anymore.  I’m here.”

 

“Don’t leave me,” Tony whispers, and then he’s dissolving into trembling sobs, and Steve just twists out of his hands and pulls him close.  Tony bunches his hands in Steve’s shirt and cries, clings to Steve and tries to anchor himself.

 

Eventually, he passes out, so exhausted that he cries himself to sleep, and Steve just holds him, keeping him safe.

 

In the morning, Tony wakes Steve because he’s trying to climb over him.  He tries to help, but Tony just tumbles off the bed, staggers and hits the chair, and then pushes himself upright, going over to his desk.  Steve pushes up onto one elbow when Tony’s drug drawer opens, and he watches him fumble around, take his meds, apply his inhaler, and then he scoops everything up and brings it over.  He opens up the front section of Steve’s backpack and upends the bottles inside before he climbs back onto the bed, settling down again.

 

“Tony, what—” he stops when Tony looks at him.

 

Tony takes a deep breath and then says, “I don’t want to kill myself, but I don’t want to have the option, either.  I’m not going to class today, so can you please take those with you?”

 

“Tony—”

 

“In high school, I tried to kill myself twice.  I fucked up the first time with the pills and didn’t do it right, so I tried to cut myself the second time.  My mom found me.  I was raped three times.  I don’t want anyone to know.  I’ll tell my mom later about this, but please, don’t—don’t tell anyone.”

 

Silence settles around them, and then Steve nods.  “Okay.  Do you want me to skip class today?”

 

“No,” Tony says, “You’ve done enough.  I—I don’t want to be a burden.”

 

“Tony,” Steve sighs before he reaches for him, taking one of his hands, “You’re my best friend.  You’ll never be a burden.”

 

“Steve—”

 

“Shut up, I’m talking,” Steve says, and Tony actually smiles, this soft little thing that makes Steve smile, as well.  “There you are,” he says, reaching out his other hand to thumb over the corner of his mouth and then up over his cheek, “Don’t ever think I won’t be here for you.”  Tony just stares at him, chewing on his bottom lip until Steve sighs and flicks his ear.  “Say thank you, asslamp.”

 

Tony laughs, this surprised sound that Steve smiles at, and then he burrows against Steve, pressing the words into his chest, “Thank you, Steve.”  When he leans back, Steve just shrugs one shoulder, and Tony stares up at him.

 

He wants _this_ , right here, this moment, and so he pushes up and kisses him, a careful, chaste thing that Steve doesn’t respond to for only a second before he’s returning the kiss, mouth moving easily against Tony’s.  It’s short lived because then Tony pulls away and turns over, reaching back for Steve.  “It’s too early for class yet, right?” he asks, and Steve just nods, snuggling close.

 

——

 

It’s Saint Patrick’s Day, and that night, Tony refuses to take his pills because he wants to get wasted, Steve tries to fight with him about it, but Tony shuts him down, voice cracking as he says, “I want to forget this.  I want to wash it away, and I want to never remember it again.  I need to erase it, Steve,” and they stop fighting.

 

And so, everyone gathers in their room for preparatory shots and marijuana, and then they’re heading out, and it’s a night to remember that none of them will.

 

Steve wakes up groaning, falls out of bed, and nearly runs down the hall to the bathroom.  He spends a half hour puking before he’s staggering back down the hall, and, when he gets in, he pauses by the door, staring over at Tony’s bed.  It’s a mass of bodies, and it’s quite the arrangement.  Johnny is lying spread eagle, Tony sprawled over him, Pepper on Johnny’s other side, against the wall, and Peggy curled up at the end.  Steve stumbles over and gives Tony’s shoulder a shove, and he jerks awake, looking around blearily.

 

“Hey,” he says when he notices Steve, “Is it morning?”

 

“Why are Peggy and Pepper here?” Steve asks, and Tony’s head whips around.

 

Steve groans because he knows what’s coming, and then Tony’s shouting, slapping Johnny’s chest until he whines, smacking at Tony.  “Stop it,” Johnny mumbles, trying to roll away from him, but Tony is on top of him, so he just gives up.

 

“Johnny!” Tony squeaks, squirming so that his feet yank out from under Peggy, who lets out a soft groan as she’s woken up, “We got with the lesbians!”

 

“What?” Johnny says, eyes coming open quickly, and then he’s looking down and gaping.  “Tony,” he says.

 

“Oh my god!” Tony shrieks, lifting a hand, and Johnny high fives him wildly, cackling.  “We are legends now,” Tony says, crawling up, bumping Pepper with his knee as he straddles Johnny’s waist, kissing him.

 

“What the hell?” Pepper whines, rubbing her eyes, and then she gasps.  “Peggy?” she asks, looking around.

 

“Motherfucker,” Peggy sighs, sitting up, “Why are we here?”

 

“You,” Tony says, straightening and twisting so he can point at her, “You amazing woman, are you _sure_ you’re a lesbian because that was some of the best head I have ever gotten, and _wait_.  That was you,” he says, pivoting to face Pepper, “Oh man, that was fantastic.  Johnny, do you remember?” he adds, and then he’s rolling his hips, and Johnny sighs, hands running over Tony’s thighs.

 

“Not really,” Johnny admits, “You?”  


“Oh, fuck yeah, I didn’t drink that much,” he says, tapping his chest as he continues to rock against Johnny, grinning when he feels him hardening beneath him.  Peggy climbs off the bed, stretching, and Pepper whines, holding out a hand for her to help her.  “Anytime you want a walking dildo, ladies,” Tony says, flashing them a wicked smirk.

 

“You’re never going to let us forget this, are you?” Pepper says, and Tony just winks.

 

As they leave, Tony folds over, mouthing down Johnny’s throat and then back up to his ear.  “I’d very much like it if you’d fuck me.”

 

“Shit, Tony,” Johnny groans, hands sliding up over his back and pressing him closer, “Steve’s still here.”

 

“Not while I’m in the room, _please_ ,” Steve whines.

 

“Just pass out,” Tony says even as he tips over and shimmies out of his pants and boxer briefs.  Johnny does the same, and then he’s rolling over, pushing one of Tony’s legs up as he licks into his mouth.

 

“ _Guys_ ,” Steve groans, and he doesn’t even know if he’s hung over yet or if he’s still drunk, but some stupid part of his brain tells him it’s okay to slide a hand down, palming his cock, slowly filling beneath his jeans, which he apparently didn’t change out of last night before he dumped into bed.

 

“Johnny,” Tony whines, pushing at him, and Johnny goes, clambering off the bed to go over to Tony’s desk, looking around for lube.  He searches with one hand, the other curled around his dick, and Tony watches him, grinning.  When Johnny returns, he presses close, and he’s careful with him in a way that Tony hadn’t expected, but it just makes it so much better.

 

“Seriously, you’re actually fucking having sex while I’m here,” Steve huffs as he undoes his jeans and shoves them down.  He goes slow, hand pulling over his dick in easy strokes until Tony’s bed is creaking, and then he looks up, and his throat clicks when he swallows.

 

“Well then,” Tony says as his eyes rake over Steve’s body, lingering on his cock, before he finally reaches his blue eyes.  Tony lifts up a little, and Steve bites back a moan when he lowers down on Johnny’s cock, head tipping back.

 

Steve has no idea what possesses him, but he’s so fucking tired of all of this, and so he jerks himself in time with the rhythm of Tony’s body, easing he and Johnny through the climb until Tony’s keening, slamming down and stilling before he rocks slowly, and Johnny groans, nails biting into Tony’s thighs as Steve finishes over his stomach, back coming up off the bed and then dropping back down with a thud.

 

When he opens his eyes, Tony is staring at him, and Steve grins lazily.  “Shut up,” he mumbles, and Tony laughs before bending down to kiss Johnny.

 

They all pass out after that, skipping class as they sleep, and it’s not until dinnertime that they finally emerge.  After showering, which Tony and Johnny do together, and Steve rolls his eyes when he hears Tony’s hitching breaths as he’s drying off and changing before he leaves the bathroom, they go to collect Betty and Bruce, who are looking a little worse for wear.

 

“You two,” Tony says, and Betty just grins, “You’re insane.”

 

“Yeah,” Bruce hums, wrapping an arm around Betty and kissing her cheek, “We know.”

 

They go to dinner together, and then, when they get back, Johnny collects his things, gets distracted kissing Tony, eventually leaves, and then Tony dumps onto his bed and says, “I’m gonna call my mom, but we should do yoga later.”

 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Steve says as he grabs his own phone, “I’m actually gonna take a walk while I call Bucky, okay?”

 

Tony hums, already dialing Maria.  She picks up as Steve is leaving, “Darling, I haven’t heard from you in ages!”

 

“Hey Sonny,” Tony says softly, kicking at his blankets until he can get under them, “I need to talk to you.”

 

Her voice changes immediately as she says, “Is everything okay, baby?”

 

“No,” Tony admits, closing his eyes and pulling the blankets up over his head, “Mamma, è successo di nuovo.  **(It happened again.)** ”

 

“Tony,” Maria says breathlessly, “Parla con me.  **(Talk to me.)** ”

 

“Mi dispiace tanto.  **(I’m so sorry.)** ” Tony whispers, and he can’t hold it in anymore.  Tears leak down his cheeks and drip over onto his pillow as he puts her on speaker and hides his face, crying quietly.

 

“Tony,” Maria says softly, “Sono dritto qui, amore. Rimani con me.  **(I’m right here, love.  Stay with me.)** ”

 

“I didn’t mean to, mamma, I tried so hard,” Tony mumbles, “I’m so sorry, I tried so hard to change, to be better.”

 

“Who was it?”

 

“Luke.  He didn’t—he didn’t get far, he just—oh god, I was asleep, and I woke up to him, and he—he—Steve walked in and stopped it, but it still happened, and I just—I want to come home, mamma.”

 

“I’m coming to get you,” Maria says, and Tony can hear her moving, “I’ll be there in an hour.  I can speak with your professors, if you’d like.”

 

“No, I’ll—I’ll email them, I just— Ho bisogno di te.  **(I need you.)** ”

 

“I’m on my way, Tony.  Do you want to stay on the phone?”

 

“Per favore,” Tony murmurs, shifting until he can wipe his face, “How was lunch with Sara the other day?”

 

Maria distracts him, chattering on about what she’s been up to, and it’s enough that Tony starts to forget why he called in the first place.  She asks him about Johnny and his classes, and he tells her everything, tells her how Rhodey and he are really becoming great friends, tells her about practicing acroyoga again with Steve, about how much he loves spending time with Johnny, every little thing about Betty and Bruce, and they keep talking even when Steve comes back, and then, finally, Maria says, “I’m here.  Let me in?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Tony says before he hangs up.  He sits, tossing his phone toward the end of his bed before he says, “Steve.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve says, looking up from his laptop.

 

“Um—my mom’s here.  I’m gonna—I’m gonna go home early for spring break.  I’m sorry, I would have told you, but we just decided, and—”

 

“Hey,” Steve cuts him off, shaking his head, “It’s fine.  Do you want me to help you pack at all?”

 

“No, it’s—it’s okay.  I’m just—I’ll be right back,” Tony says before he leaves, and, when he returns, Maria instantly goes over to Steve, who is rummaging through his desk.

 

“Steve,” she says, and he turns, letting out a surprised noise when she hugs him.  “Thank you so much for taking care of him,” she whispers.

 

“Of course,” Steve says, returning the embrace.

 

When they part, Maria smiles up at him before going to help Tony pack, and then, when everything’s settled, Steve helps them take his bags out to the car.  Outside, after Maria’s gotten behind the wheel, Tony lingers on the sidewalk, and Steve sighs, bumping his fist against his shoulder so Tony looks up at him.  “You’ll be okay,” he says, and Tony nods.

 

“I know,” he says, “Thank you.”

 

Steve shrugs.  “That’s what friends are for,” he says, and Tony just smiles before stepping in, arms winding around Steve, who leans their temples together and holds Tony close.  “Call me later, we’ll do facetime yoga,” Steve murmurs, and Tony hides his widening smile in Steve’s shoulder.

  
When they finally pull away, Tony shrugs one shoulder and says, “See you later, muscles,” and Steve just laughs as Tony climbs into the passenger seat.  He watches him go, and, for once, he doesn’t feel like everything is a complete mess.

 

——

 

The semester starts to whittle away.  Spring break comes and goes, and they leave March behind.  April is rainy, but warm, and, as May finally starts to blossom, everyone is in a steady place, finally finding some semblance of _okay_.

 

And with May comes one of the most adult conversations Tony thinks he’s ever had in his entire life.  He’s at Johnny’s for the weekend because Bucky is visiting, and they’ve just finished watching a movie when Tony stretches, catlike, and then shifts until he’s sprawled half on top of Johnny, looking up at him.  “Hey,” Johnny says, running a hand over his back, “How you doin’?”

 

Tony laughs, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes.  They lie together for a while like that, just enjoying the presence of one another, until Tony stretches again, presses a kiss to Johnny’s mouth, and then sits up.  “Real talk time,” he says, folding his legs beneath him.

 

“Okay,” Johnny says, laying a hand over one of his knees, “What’s up?”

 

“I’m going to France this summer.”

 

“Really?” Johnny says, quirking an eyebrow, and Tony thinks he’s upset until he shrugs and says, “Funny story, I’m going to California.”

 

“Really?” Tony echoes him before he nods, “Gonna surf it up?”

 

“Oh man, the waves are going to be so amazing,” Johnny says, grinning, “I can’t wait to shred those beauties.”  He falls quiet, just looking at Tony for a few moments before he slaps his knee and then sits, as well.  “Real talk time, right?” he asks, and Tony nods, “Okay.  I don’t think we should be in a committed relationship over the summer.”

 

“Soul mate, I’m telling you,” Tony says before he leans forward, kissing him.  Johnny hums, letting Tony lick into his mouth, and they get a little distracted, which means they end up with Tony on his back, one leg hooked up around Johnny’s ribcage.

 

“Tony,” Johnny groans, nosing down his throat, “We’re supposed to be having a conversation.”

 

“Okay, let’s do the quick discussion thing, I like that,” Tony says, heel pressing into Johnny’s lower back so he drops closer to him, “I also like your dick, and I’d _really_ like it in my ass.”

 

Johnny lets out a low noise, biting Tony’s shoulder before he pushes up, slowly rocking against Tony as he stares down at him.  “Okay,” he says, “You are a really cool individual, but I know you’re gonna get horny in France and flirt with way too many foreign men.  I’m also equally super cool, and I’m totally going to bone every fucking thing that walks past me with some kind of board.  So, I think, we should do the being mutually cool together thing again and not necessarily break up, but just be cool by ourselves during the summer.  Then, come September, we’ll see where things lie.  Maybe you’ll be interested in other people, and maybe I’ll be interested in other people, so maybe we’ll just be really awesome friends, but maybe we’ll also still be interested in each other.  I think we should just go with the flow, you know?”

 

“God, you’re such a fucking hippie,” Tony says, but he’s grinning, “I think that sounds like a stellar idea.”

 

“This way,” Johnny says, kissing him, “We can just fuck like mad rabbits, spend as much time as possible together, and then have amazing summers without having to worry about long distance fights and all that shit.”

 

“Okay, boyfriend,” Tony says, and Johnny just laughs, pressing them together again.

 

——

 

They’re outside, enjoying the warmth of the approaching summer, stretched out on one of the many grassy lawns spread around campus when Bruce lifts a hand and says, “You guys should show us how the routine’s coming.”

 

“Yes!” Betty exclaims, sitting up, “You’ve been working on it for ages now.”

 

Tony makes a noise, not getting up, though he turns his head a few times until Steve smacks his ear and then tugs on his hair.  “Stop it,” he mumbles.

 

“Come _on_ ,” Betty pleads even as she nudges Bruce, pointing over to them.

 

Bruce sits, as well, smiling when he sees them, and he leans over, whispering, “Think they’re starting to figure it out?”

 

“I think they’re getting there,” Betty says, stretching out her legs and folding over into a forward bend.

 

Steve’s lying on his back, one arm beneath his head, pillowing it, the other stretched down, fingers carding through Tony’s ridiculous hair.  Tony is lying on his back, as well, humming to himself, his head resting on Steve’s stomach.

 

“ _Guys_ ,” Betty and Bruce whine at the same time, so Steve swipes a thumb down over one of Tony’s eyebrows, and Tony stretches, toes digging into the ground because he refuses to wear shoes when it’s so nice out.

 

“Come on,” he murmurs, reaching up to tap Steve’s arm before he stands and starts stretching.

 

Steve takes a little longer, not wanting to move, but, eventually, Tony’s shedding his shirt and going into down dog to practice some handstands, so he gets up and stretches out.

 

When they’re ready, Steve cracks his back and then slowly lowers down onto his back, knees bent.  Tony comes over, stretching high before he swan dives, hands coming down to press his palms against the ground on either side of Steve’s head.  Steve reaches up, hands curling around his shoulders, and Tony holds his gaze for a moment, breathing, before he smiles and slowly kicks up, one leg coming up straight, the other remaining bent as Steve straightens his legs, carefully balancing Tony before he shifts one to the center of his lower back, twisting it sideways.  Steve’s hands slide down his arms until they’re grasping each other’s hands, and then he moves his foot to Tony’s shoulder, inhales deeply, and lifts, supporting him with one foot as Tony brings his legs together, toes flexing in the air.

 

Steve syncs himself to Tony’s breathing until it’s just them, moving as one, and Tony’s smile gets a little wider as he starts to drop his legs out into a split, and then, Betty is gasping.  They’ve been practicing this move over and over and over again, and they’ve only managed it once, but Steve keeps breathing, and Tony keeps smiling, and then he’s turning him over, other foot coming up to press against his opposite hip as Tony rolls through the air, stretching so that his toes point past Steve’s head before he’s coming around and reaching with his right hand.  Steve catches him, hands wound tightly together as he rolls Tony again, twisting him until they’re facing each other again, Tony’s legs coming out into a split again as Steve balances his feet on his thighs.  They move into their last roll, Steve’s toes flexing against Tony’s bare skin as he puts all of his trust in Steve, exhales as he twists again, feet coming back above Steve’s head, and then he comes into bow, Steve’s feet shifting with the slow rise and fall of his breaths in his stomach.

 

They hold it, and scattered applause murmurs around them.  Steve breaks eye contact with Tony, looking over, and they have an audience.  “Steve,” Tony says softly, and Steve looks back at him, smiling when he sees Tony’s.

 

They move into their final pose—the routine is a work in progress, and this is as far as they’ve come—Tony curling back toward him as Steve moves him into a shelf, feet padding over his body as Tony’s legs bend in opposite directions, and then Steve’s feet are snug in the dip of Tony’s lower back.  Tony lifts again as Steve presses him up, rolling out of shelf and straightening into boat.  He balances Tony there, toes brushing his spine as Tony stretches his arms up toward his raising legs, and they hold, inhaling deeply before he comes out, reaching over, and Steve rolls him, knees coming in toward his chest as he brings Tony back down.

 

“Tony,” Steve says as they exhale together, and Tony starts laughing.  He places his hands on either side of Steve’s head, holding himself up as Steve’s feet dance down, legs straightening as he lowers Tony down on top of him.

 

There are a few cheers this time, and then, Tony’s dipping down and pressing a soft, warm kiss to Steve’s mouth, and Steve holds his breath.  He’s right where he belongs.  This is home.

 

——

 

Summer arrives.

 

Tony goes to France the first week of June, to return the third week in August, and Maria very quietly announces that she’s going with him, telling Howard that she needs space from him, that, without this summer away, she doesn’t see their marriage lasting much longer, and so he sends them off with his blessing.

 

Steve gets a job working at the bookstore with Bucky, and though Emma still mostly glares at him, she starts to let him in a little.  They spend every free moment together, and Steve starts to think that he could be content here, that he could settle for this, and he’s okay with that.  He and Tony talk every Thursday, usually for hours on end, doing yoga and catching up, and he makes an excuse every week why he can’t see Bucky that night.

 

The days pass by slowly until Tony is coercing Steve into staying up into the wee hours of the morning so they don’t have to stop talking, and Steve starts counting down the days until September arrives and he can see him again.

 

Things get better and better with Bucky, and Steve thinks he can see him falling, and he desperately wants to tell him not to, that he doesn’t know how to fall for him in return, that he’s already fallen in the wrong direction.

 

And then, almost without warning, it’s September.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been dreading this chapter for some time, and I really hope you guys read my opening notes before you read the chapter to understand why this is all put together in one. In trying to stay true to Tony’s character, I really felt that this was a very accurate response to what happened, and so no, I’m not trying to be insensitive at all or dismiss what happened. This is just the characterization of Tony Stark that I have come to understand throughout my life. And yes, it will probably come back to bite him in the butt someday because he’s never really good at keeping things bottled up for long. But hey, look at that last line. Here we go, sophomore year. Are you ready?
> 
> Also, I’m posting this early in celebration of Tony Stark’s birthday! I forgot to celebrate it their freshman year, and I’m going to do my best not to forget sophomore year, though he does get a present sophomore year that’s probably going to remind me it needs to happen.
> 
> Another thing. I’m currently tearing _X-Men: Days of Future Past_ a new one over at my Tumblr [here](http://sleeponrooftops.tumblr.com/post/87173990089/sleeponrooftops-ravenclawinstarfleet), if you’re interested to see what’s going on. I haven’t yet seen the film, though something’s occurred that’s really pissing me off and that I can’t seem to let go, and I’ll give you a little hint: their absurd white washing of Pietro’s character by changing his name to Peter and saying that’s what a “real teen kid” would do. The posts have gotten longer with each one, but if you’re curious, it’s linked.
> 
> Anyway, I’m off to watch _Kick-Ass 2_ because I’ve been doing an Aaron Taylor Johnson marathon after his incredible performance in _Godzilla_ and his upcoming appearance as Pietro in _Age of Ultron_. I should probably mention that I’m a little heated about Pietro right now because I’m writing about him in sophomore year. I can’t remember if I’ve said it in one of my author’s notes, but Steve joins the track team, and because I think I’m stupidly hilarious, Pietro runs sprints. I LOVE PUNS A LOT, OKAY. I should probably also take this time to mention that I am desperately trying to remember Rhodey and Sam, but I seem to keep forgetting in favor of Johnny and Pietro. Like, seriously, I have canon friendships that are totally available to me, and somehow, Tony still ends up hanging out with Johnny and Steve still ends up hanging out with Pietro. I’m working on it. Rhodey and Sam are in this and will continue to be, but I might also be expanding Steve and Tony’s friendship network a little.
> 
> I’m rambling. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! There’s a rather long scene somewhere in here with Tony while he’s in Betty and Bruce’s room, and I think two songs will probably work best for it: [Of the Night by Bastille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCTDKLjdok4) and [Madness by Muse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mq9zhpBweDk).

_The time has come, let us be brave._

Steve hums, tapping a rhythm out on his thigh as they turn down the street toward his campus.  His phone buzzes, and he smiles, opening up the text, _how close are you?_

_Three seconds, barely.  You?_ he types back.

 

His mom laughs, shaking her head.  “You two are absurd,” she says, and Steve just makes a face at her.

 

“I haven’t seen him in _forever_ , mom.  France is actually almost on the other side of the world.”

 

“It’s across the ocean,” Joe snorts, “It’s not that far.”

 

 _Ten minutes_ , comes Tony’s response, and Steve can’t help it, he’s grinning so widely his jaw hurts a little.

 

 _Duuuuuuuuude_ , he types, _I miss you so much, I can’t wait to see you._ “A very large ocean, dad,” Steve says, looking back up, “The time difference is _stupid_ , and one of us always ends up exhausted because of it.”

 

“How did Bucky handle it last night?” Sara asks.

 

Steve shrugs.  “He was upset, understandably.  I mean, I am, too, but I’m really excited to go back.  I missed school so much.”

 

“You missed Tony,” Sara corrects, sighing, “Honey, you and Bucky—”

 

“We’re fine, mom,” Steve cuts her off.  They’ve had this argument so many times over the summer, he knows it by heart.  “He knows Tony’s my best friend.  He gets it.”

 

“If it makes you feel better believing that, then okay,” Sara mutters, and Steve just hunkers back in his seat and opens Tony’s text.

 

 _I MISS YOU MORE THAN THE MOON_.  He bursts out laughing, and Joe gives him a strange look as he puts his phone away and turns his gaze up to the window.

 

When they finally get there, Steve clambers out, looking around.  He takes a deep breath, eyes closing, and then he heads around to the back of the car, grinning.  God, he’s missed it here.

 

He’s just shouldering his backpack and grabbing one of the large totes when a shriek splits the warm air, and Steve drops the tote, spinning around.  Betty is running toward him, and Bruce makes a nervous noise when she darts across the street without looking.  She looks more beautiful than Steve remembers, with a coral dress falling down around her knees, feet bare and dirty, her long hair tumbling down around her, coming to sway at her lower back now.  He hurries away from the car as she runs over, and she giggles as she reaches him, embracing him tightly.  “Oh, I missed you so much!” she exclaims, squeezing him before she’s jumping back and pulling Bruce over.

 

“Hey man,” Bruce says, hugging him, “Good to see you.”

 

“How long have you guys been back?” Steve asks when they part.

 

“A few hours,” Betty says excitedly, “Did some acroyoga—wait til you see the new routine, it’s amazing.”

 

“In a dress?” Steve asks, and Betty just lifts it, revealing yoga shorts.  Bruce smiles fondly at her, and Steve just laughs and turns back to his car.

 

“Oh, we can help!” Betty exclaims, giving Bruce a little push, who grumbles at her.

 

They each take a tote, and then they’re heading up toward the dorm building, letting themselves in and banking a right.  Around the corner, Steve can’t help but walk a little faster—he’s missed his room, missed this school, missed everything about being here.

 

Betty and Bruce help bring everything inside, and then Betty demands he come visit when he’s all moved in before they leave.  Sara and Joe start unpacking while Steve buggers off to use the bathroom, though, as soon as he opens the door, Tony comes around the corner.

 

He’s looking over his shoulder, though, saying something to Maria, but then he turns back, stops, and drops everything he’s holding.  “Antonio!” Maria calls, but he’s already running, and Steve braces for impact, laughing loudly when Tony jumps, landing on top of him.  He catches him, arms winding around him as Tony buries his face in Steve’s neck, trying to talk but really just laughing and making ridiculous noises.  Steve hits the door when he collides with him, but Tony gives them a kick away before he circles his legs around Steve’s waist, hugging him with his whole body.  “Hello, Steve,” Maria says as she approaches.

 

“Hello, Maria,” he says as Tony straightens, hands clasping Steve’s face.

 

“Hi,” Tony says, and Steve starts laughing again, hands warm against Tony’s back.

 

“Hello yourself, weirdo,” Steve says.

 

Maria passes by them, going into the room, and Tony squirms, giggles, and then kisses Steve, a quick peck before he’s unhooking his legs, and Steve’s letting him down.  “Look at you, been working out,” Tony says, slapping his stomach as he heads back down the hall, Steve going with him.

 

“You too, apparently,” Steve says, tugging on his ear.  He detours in the bathroom, and Tony’s in their room when he gets out.  Steve goes back out with them to help take Tony’s things in, and then everyone’s just a bustle of activity, unpacking and setting up the room until their parents are saying their goodbyes, and then it’s just the two of them, adding the finishing touches.

 

Steve finishes long before Tony, and he goes over to his side, dumping onto his bed as Tony sets up his desk.  “So,” Steve says, and Tony looks over, grinning, “How’s summer been since you got home?”

 

“Dude, _boring_ ,” Tony whines, “I couldn’t wait to get back here.”

 

Tony keeps working, setting up his room while he and Steve chat, and then, when he’s finished, he snuggles up next to Steve and plucks his hand out of his lap, winding their fingers together.  They sit like that, just talking and catching up, their hands warm against one another’s, and it’s like nothing has changed between them, but Steve knows everything has, can feel them shifting into something new and unchartered.

 

——

 

The week passes by in a blur of figuring out when to eat and go to the gym and relax.  Tony’s taking six classes again, the last of his Mechanical and Electrical Engineering courses, French II, Advanced Biology II, Advanced Physics, and Advanced Calculus II, as well as working as a teacher assistant for the introductory French I class, a trade-off so he doesn’t have to take the required film course.  Steve is only taking four, though he’s nearly done with his gen eds, so he has three art classes, Painting II, Drawing II, and Sculpture, as well as French I, which turns out to be quite the laugh when he shows up to class on Wednesday, and Tony’s already there, napping at the professor’s desk.  When he comes in, he tugs on his hair, Tony tells him to fuck off, and some of the other students look between them curiously.  Steve sits near the front, their professor yells at Tony in French, “Réveillez-vous! Il n'ya pas de place pour la paresse dans ma classe!  **(Wake up!  There is no room for laziness in my class!)** ”  In response, Tony mutters angrily under his breath, “Pardonnez-moi, vieille sorcière, **(Excuse me, old hag.)** ” and ends up with a write-up.

 

When Friday finally rolls around, Tony’s lying face down on his bed, groaning, when Steve’s phone starts ringing.  “Hey,” he says after he sees Bucky’s name, “Are we hanging out tonight or tomorrow?”

 

“Tomorrow,” Tony mumbles, “I’m going over Johnny’s tonight.”

 

“That’s still a thing?”

 

“Probably not, but we said we’d talk about it, so.  Might get laid, who knows.  I should be off.  Answer that,” he adds before he rolls off his bed.

 

“I was going to,” Steve mutters before he slides his thumb over, lifting the phone to his ear, “Hey you.”

 

“Hey,” Bucky says warmly, “I miss you.  


“I miss you, too,” Steve says, and Tony starts making gagging noises, so he pulls a face, and Tony snorts, shouldering his backpack.

 

“You should try phone sex,” Tony says before he waves, heading out, and Steve just rolls his eyes and goes over to dump onto his bed.

 

“How’s being back at school?” Bucky asks.

 

“It’s fantastic.  I’ve missed it so much here, and my classes are incredible so far.  And you?”

 

“It’s alright.  I’m a little bummed out with my new roommate, but I’m sure we’ll get along eventually.  It’s just weird, I lived with Frank for two years, and now I have to jump into this new thing with this guy, Logan.  I dunno, Steve.  I wish we went to the same school.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he tries to say _me too_ , but he doesn’t mean it, and so he just shoves it back down and instead says, “Things will work out, don’t worry.  Positive thinking, remember?  My mom keeps rambling on about how Maria has been reading a lot of books on Celtic faith and Buddhism, so she—”

 

“Steve,” Bucky sighs, “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

 

“What?” Steve says, frowning, “It’s really cool, one of the philosophies she’s been raving about—”

 

“I don’t care,” Bucky cuts him off, “I don’t want to talk about Maria Stark.  I don’t want to talk about her abusive husband or her darling son, either.  I really don’t want to fucking talk about Tony.”

 

“Bucky—”

 

“I am so sick of it, Steve.  Do you think I’m an imbecile?  God, I thought the first few Thursdays, you actually did have shit to do, or you were actually sick, but every fucking Thursday all summer?  That was your Tony night, wasn’t it?  I can’t believe I was so naïve to think that I would ever come before him.  Steve, I—I just want to matter to you.”

 

“Of course you matter to me,” Steve says, sitting up, “Bucky, I wouldn’t give you up for the world.  What we have means a lot to me, and I never want to jeopardize that.  I’m sorry that you don’t believe that, but it’s true.  If I could come see you every afternoon after class, I would.  You have to know that.”

 

“I do, Steve,” Bucky sighs, “I’m just—I’m tired, and I don’t want to hear about Tony.  I just want to talk to _you_.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, though he doesn’t feel quite right, “I’m sorry.”

 

“How are your art classes so far?” Bucky asks after a moment of silence, and though Steve lets him change the subject, he can’t help letting it settle heavily in him.  They’ve had this argument so many times, and he’s starting to wonder what that means.

 

——

 

When Tony arrives at Johnny’s, it’s like nothing has changed between them.  Johnny lets out this wild yell, crushes Tony against him, and then they’re stumbling toward his sofa, stripping off layers until Johnny’s tipping backward, Tony’s straddling his waist, and they fuck like that.

 

After, when Johnny finds a pack of cigarettes and grabs them beers, Tony follows him upstairs, and they tuck up in his bed, sitting opposite each other as they smoke and drink.  They catch up, talking about France and California, about their classes, about Tony’s mom and Johnny’s sister, and then they talk about them, though not before Johnny leans forward and kisses Tony, and that’s how they end up having slow, lazy sex.

 

Finally, when they’re lying together, Johnny says, “I met someone when I came back in August.”

 

“Oh?” Tony says, looking up at him and grinning, “What’s his or her name?”

 

“Peter,” Johnny says, smiling, “He’s just transferred here.  He’s a sophomore.  I think I might ask him on a date.”

  
“Dude!” Tony exclaims, smacking his chest before he pushes upright, “That’s fantastic.”

 

Johnny just smiles wider, nodding, before he says, “How’s Steve?”

 

Tony rolls his eyes.  “Still dating Bucky, but whatever.  I’ve let it go.”

 

“Have you let him go?” Johnny asks, and Tony sighs.  “Yeah,” Johnny says, “I don’t think you ever will, huh?”

 

“I doubt it.  So, tell me about Peter.”  Johnny rambles on and on until Tony’s laughing at him.

 

In the end, they decide to part friends, and though Tony is a little sad leaving without Johnny as his boyfriend again, he thinks it’s for the best, and he knows they’ll still remain close, so he’s okay.  When he gets back to his room, it’s late, but Steve is still up, watching a movie on his laptop, though he looks a little bummed out, and he only grunts when Tony comes in and says hello.  Tony shrugs, going over to change out of his clothes before he buggers off to take a shower, and, when he gets back, Steve is scrolling listlessly through facebook.

 

“Alright, come on,” Tony says, coming over and taking his laptop from him, “Turn that frown upside down, it’s time for yoga.”

 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, but then Tony’s leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

 

“Whatever it is,” he whispers, lips brushing Steve’s skin, “It’ll be gone in the morning, and so it’s no use fretting about it now.”  He kisses him again, and then straightens, nodding toward the center of the room.  “Come on,” he says, “Positive thinking, it’s all the rage.”

 

Steve lets out a quiet laugh before he stands, and Tony just cries, “huzzah!” and they unroll their mats.

 

——

 

The next day, after they’ve woken up late, done morning yoga, and gone out for brunch, Tony coerces Steve over to his bed with video games and snacks, and they spend the day just hanging out.  They game for a while until Tony gets bored, and then they do core yoga, break to do stand practice, and then see how far off the map they’ve gotten with their acroyoga.  By the time dinner rolls around, they’re both starving, and Tony starts to get his things when Steve says, “Hey.  Let’s order out Chinese and watch a few movies.”  Tony just grins and goes to grab one of his earphones, chatting with Jarvis about local Chinese joints and convincing Steve to get Thai instead.  When it arrives, Tony goes to collect the food and pay while Steve steals his laptop to find something for them to watch.

 

“So, what’s up first?” Tony asks when he comes back with the food.

 

Steve has migrated to his bed because it has a better view for both of them, and so Tony brings the bag over to his desk, taking out containers as Steve says, “Horror?”

 

“Not until after I’ve eaten,” Tony says, “I’m gonna end up jumping, and it’s going to get everywhere, and then you’ll yell at me.  Later.  What’d you have in mind?”

 

“That movie everyone was talking about, _The Purge_.  I never got to see it.”

 

“Dude!” Tony exclaims, “I’ve been dying to see that.  We are totally watching that after we eat.  Find something funny.  We should watch _Mama_.  Steve.  _Steve_.  Have you seen it?”

 

“No, what’s it about?”

 

“Feral children and their supernatural mother.  I will tell you nothing else,” he adds when Steve gives him a strange look.  “Oh man, but there’s also _The Conjuring_.  Okay, fine, you suck, we’re watching horror movies.  Fair warning, I’m going to use you as a shield.”

 

Steve just laughs and nods, searching for the three different movies.  “How about this,” he says, glancing over at Tony, “You can hide, and I won’t make fun of you if you give me a massage later.”

 

“Ooh, kinky,” Tony teases.

 

“Fuck off, my neck’s killing me.”

 

“Stop stressing out then,” Tony says, and Steve looks up at him again, watching him peek in the different containers before he goes over to his desk to find chopsticks.  He smiles as Tony makes a detour at their shared fridge to get beers, and then he’s getting comfortable on Steve’s bed.  “Jay,” Tony says aloud, “Hit me with a film, love.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis says, and he echoes around the room.

 

“Dude!” Steve exclaims, looking over at Tony, who’s grinning.  “When did you do that?”

 

“While you were in class this week.  I know, I’m awesome.  I’ll get you guys acquainted later, and then you can ask him for sexual favors, too, though he’s a cheeky bastard, so we’ll see if you actually get anywhere.”

 

“I resent that, sir,” Jarvis says, and Tony snorts.

 

“See what I mean,” he whispers conspiratorially as the movie begins.

 

It’s almost more hilarious than playing _Left 4 Dead_ , though he’s more interested than afraid when they watch _The Purge_ , and so none of his food goes flying, though it certainly would have if they’d eaten while watching _Mama_.  By the time they get around to _The Conjuring_ , he’s whining at Steve for trying to scar him for life, and Steve just laughs and pushes him over to the wall when he tries to crowd against him.  Tony settles, rearranging the pillows so he can still see while he lies down.  Steve follows suit, and Tony reaches down when he’s comfortable, winding their fingers together.  Absentmindedly, Steve lifts their hands, kissing Tony’s knuckles, and Tony just hums and smiles before turning his attention back to the movie.

 

When they start playing the clap game, he starts whining, and then, he’s shrieking, and they miss whatever comes next because Steve is laughing so hard.  It’s nearing three when the movie ends, and Tony slaps Steve’s chest before clambering over him, going over to his desk.  “We are not falling asleep this close to the witching hour,” Tony says, digging around in his drug drawer.  He straightens, victorious, and Steve laughs, shaking his head.  “In celebration of our first successful week as sophomores, we’re going to get baked.”

 

“If you say so,” Steve says, so Tony grins and comes back over.

 

They get high, lying with their sides snug together, Tony regaling Steve with some of his finer moments in France while Steve giggles and eventually resorts to tickling Tony so he’ll shut up.

 

In the end, they fall asleep in Steve’s bed, Tony snoring softly, his face turned into Steve’s shoulder, Steve’s head turned toward him.  It’s late when they wake up the next morning, and Steve groans, lifting a hand to rub his head.  “Tony,” he mumbles, giving him a little push.

 

“No,” Tony says, his voice muffled, “Sleeping.”

 

“Me too,” Steve says, settling back down.  Tony just hums and presses closer to him, his back snug against Steve’s chest.  They haven’t slept like this in a long time, haven’t slept in the same bed in even longer, and Steve tries not to admit he’s missed it, but he loves the feeling of Tony in his arms, warm and pliant and sleepy.  He loves to curl around him, to press a protective hand against his chest, to rub his nose along the nape of his neck, against the ridges of his spine, and breathe him in.  He loves how close Tony always wants to be, how he octopuses, as he puts it, tangling their legs together and winding his fingers around Steve’s forearm.  He loves this, this thing between them, this lack of space and easy trust.

 

“Tony,” he says after a few minutes, and then Tony starts laughing.  “Shut up,” Steve whines, but Tony can’t stop, his shoulders shaking as he releases Steve’s arm and squirms until he’s on his back, looking over at Steve with a grin.

 

“You’re such a horny bastard,” Tony says, shaking his head and poking Steve in the chest, hard enough that Steve makes a disgruntled noise at him.  “Honestly, your poor boyfriend,” Tony continues, finger sliding down his torso, and Steve eyes go wide a second before Tony pats his crotch.  He leans in close, and Steve swallows, staring at him.  “Guess what,” Tony says, his voice pitched low, and Steve stops breathing.  Tony shakes his head again, grin getting a little crooked.  “I’m not your fuck toy.  Fantasize about your fucking boyfriend, or I’m going to start being an asshole.”  He shrugs, and then he’s pushing up and climbing over Steve.  “I’m gonna shower.  Wanna get lunch after?” he asks as he goes across the room to get his caddy.

 

“Uh,” Steve says, sitting up as he stares at him, “Yeah, sure.”

 

“Finish jerking off before I get back,” Tony says, and then he’s gone.

 

Steve blinks.  He’d expected an entirely different reaction, and now, he’s not pissed off, he’s impressed.  “Shit,” he says, lifting a hand to scrub through his hair.  It occurs to him that he needs to figure his head out before anyone gets hurt again, and so Steve reaches over to his desk for his phone.

 

Bucky answers on the third ring, “Hey, babe.”

 

“What are you doing the second weekend of October?” Steve asks.

 

“Probably nothing, why?”

 

“Do you want to come up?”

 

“Really?” Bucky says, and Steve hates that he sounds surprised, “Are you sure?”  


“Yeah.  It’s a long weekend, and I want to see you.”

 

“Yeah, okay.  I mean, let me double check that I don’t have anything, but that’d be amazing.  What brought this on?”

 

“I dunno,” Steve says, looking over at Tony’s side, “I miss you.”

 

He thinks that might be a lie.

 

——

 

Sunday, they spend a few hours separate doing homework, and then Tony’s demanding they have another mini movie night, so they watch a few more horror movies, Tony goes back this own bed when they’re done, and Steve almost tells him how proud of him he is, that he’s actually taking control, that he’s not letting something happen that might hurt him in the end, but he keeps quiet and sleeps alone.  The week that follows is a busy one, and Tony and Steve barely see each other, too caught up in the whirlwind of classes and their first large homework assignments.  When the weekend finally comes around, Bucky’s been bugging Steve to talk all week, and so he tries to discreetly ask Tony if he’ll fuck off for a few hours, but Tony just makes lewd comments as he’s getting his things together.

 

When he’s gone, Steve dials Bucky, and they talk about classes for a while until Bucky’s trying to segue way into something else, and Steve sighs.  “Bucky,” he says, leaving his desk to lie on his bed, “Are you trying to ask me to have phone sex?”

 

“Yes,” Bucky says, and Steve can imagine his shoulders slumping, “I’m sorry, I’m bad at this.”

 

“Just dirty talk, man,” Steve says, hand sliding down to rub over his groin slowly, “We don’t have to.”

 

“I want to.  God, I want to,” Bucky says, “But I wish there was just—no phone between us.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “I know.”  There’s silence for a few moments, and then it occurs to Steve.  “Hey,” he says, sitting up, “We could facetime.”

 

“What, and watch each other jerk off?”

 

Steve shrugs.  “It’s kind of more like we’re actually together.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky says, “Okay.”  He hangs up, and then Steve dials him on facetime, and he’s actually a little nervous.

 

It turns out to be a fairly harmless affair, though they spend some time laughing about it in the beginning until Steve’s just taking the plunge and shimmying out of his jeans.  It’s a little awkward, trying to balance his phone, and Bucky’s a little shy about the whole thing, so it’s not the best Steve’s ever had, but it’s a start, and, afterward, he lies with his phone, and they chat until Bucky starts to drift off, and then they say their goodbyes.  Steve realizes, as he’s putting his phone away, that they’ve never fallen asleep on the phone together.

 

In Bruce and Betty’s room, Tony is on their bed, working on a paper for one of his classes while they’re at their desks, doing homework, as well.  They’ll occasionally speak, one of them piping up with something they’ve just read or want an opinion on, but mostly, it’s just the clack of keys and the intermittent groan of frustration.

 

After about an hour, Tony cheers and then topples over backward, laptop sliding off his lap as he lays spread eagle on the bed.  “That sucked,” he says, glancing down at his laptop.  He flaps his hand at it, saves his essay, and then puts it to sleep before he closes his eyes, throwing an arm over them to block out the sun.

 

Betty looks over at him, and she grins before she gets up and crosses the room to Bruce, looping her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw.  “I’m going to go do terrible things to Tony, if that’s alright with you,” she whispers, and Bruce laughs, nodding.

 

“Mhm,” he says.

 

“And if he does terrible things to me?” Betty asks, and Bruce turns his head, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“I’ll probably join, if it comes to that,” he admits before he kisses her, “Lock the door.  I’ll put some music on.”

 

Betty just kisses him again before locking the door, and then she turns, lifting her shirt up over her head and shimmying out of her jeans before she goes over to the bed, carefully climbing on and settling atop Tony, knees snug against his ribs.

 

“Hi,” Tony says, lifting his arm and staring up at her, “How are you, Betty?”

 

“Good,” she says, smiling as she lets her fingers skim the hem of his jeans, dipping below his shirt to trace over his belly.  “Bored.  Sick of homework.  Did you finish your paper?”

 

“Uh huh,” Tony says, letting his arm drop down onto the bed as his eyes rake over her, taking in her tan, bare skin.  “Hey Bruce,” he says a little louder, meeting Betty’s gaze again.  Bruce grunts, not looking over as he continues to type, and Tony clears his throat.  “You okay with what’s going on right now?”

 

“One hundred percent,” Bruce mutters, “I’ll be over in a bit.”

 

“Oh,” Tony says, his voice cracking a little, “That’s good to know.  Okay,” he adds when Betty rocks her hips, and his eyes roll back as his breath comes out a little harder.

 

“So you really are straight,” Betty says, grinning when she shifts, the slowly hardening curve of Tony’s cock pressing against her, “I wasn’t sure I believed you.”

 

“Not straight, not gay, not bisexual,” Tony says, opening his eyes again, “Just—I dunno, man.  I don’t really care what gender it is, as long as I’m getting laid.  It’s about the attraction to the person, not their genitals.”

 

“Pansexual,” Bruce says.

 

“What?”

 

“You would identify as pansexual,” Bruce says, looking over, and he gets a little lost just watching Betty move.

 

“I don’t fucking like labels,” Tony mutters, “I am just a sexual human being.  That’s it.”

 

“I like that,” Betty says as she starts lifting up his shirt.  Tony pushes off the bed so he can get if off, and then Betty’s tracing patterns over his torso, following the lines of his muscles.  “So, you’re just attracted to whatever you’re feeling like at the time?”

 

“Kind of,” Tony says, and he means to go on, but then Betty grinds down against him, and he lets out a harsh breath, head tipping back.

 

“You’re certainly reacting to me,” Betty says, laughing, and Tony makes a face at her.

 

“I don’t know if you’re aware,” he says, looking up at her, “But I am _very_ attracted to you and your boyfriend—have been since I met you.”

 

“So, this isn’t just about sex for you?”

 

“I mean,” Tony says, shrugging, “Yes and no.  I’d love nothing more than to have sex with the two of you, but I love you guys.  You’re my best friends, and so it’s not meaningless.”

 

“Good to know,” Betty says before leaning down, and Tony bites his lip when she starts kissing down his front, his chest rising and falling quickly.  When she reaches his belly, Betty scrapes her teeth lightly over his hipbone, and Tony swallows down a whine, gritting his teeth.  Betty hums softly, and then lifts away from him, dropping onto the bed.  “Pants off,” she says, and Tony nods quickly before doing as he’s told, undoing his jeans and shoving them down.  He leaves his boxer briefs on, but Betty still grins wickedly when she sees the outline of his cock.  “I’m so curious,” she admits, flicking her gaze back up to Tony, who just stares at her, a little bit unhinged.

 

“Okay,” he says, sitting up, “Bruce.”

 

“Uh huh,” Bruce mumbles.

 

“No, fucking pay attention for a second.”

 

Bruce sighs and looks over, letting his eyes travel over Tony’s body, whose knees start bouncing in response.  “What, Tony?” he asks finally, meeting his gaze.

 

“What the fuck?”

 

“We talked about it,” Betty says, running a hand over his back, “We trust you.”

 

“Are there ground rules?  A safe word?  You guys gotta give me boundaries, okay, or I’m just diving in headfirst,” Tony says, and Bruce smiles.

 

“I’m impressed,” he says, “I didn’t think you had the willpower.”

 

“I don’t,” Tony says pointedly, “But, I don’t want to fuck things up between you two, so I want to know what I’m allowed to do.”

 

“Pretty much anything,” Betty says, shrugging one shoulder, “As long as we’re both here.”

 

“Promise?” Tony asks, looking between them.

 

They both nod, and then Bruce turns back to his laptop.  “I have to finish this paper,” he says, “So get started without me.”

 

“Okay, fucking hell,” Tony mutters before he turns, and Betty lets out a soft noise of surprise when he kisses her, hands drifting over her body until he can get a good grip and move her, twisting them so she’s under him.  He dips down to meet her, left hand sliding down to curl around her thigh, pulling it up as he rolls his hips into hers, and Betty breaks away with a soft moan, head tipping back.  Tony mouths down her bared throat, her skin warm under his mouth, and then he scrapes his teeth over her shoulder before kissing down to her chest, laying soft, butterfly kisses over the swell of her breasts.  His right hand comes down, skimming over her side and sliding over her belly before he’s hooking a thumb under her lace panties, and Betty inhales sharply when he dips down, exploring quickly before he’s pulling up to rub a thumb against her clit, small circles that make Betty’s breaths come in quick, hitching gasps.

 

“Tony,” she says, panting, and he grins against her chest before moving back up to her mouth, kissing her quiet.  His left hand comes up to circle around her, fingers sliding over the clasp of her bra, and Betty starts to pull away to say she can do it, but then it’s coming undone, and she blinks up at Tony.

 

“Bruce,” she says suddenly, looking past him.  Bruce grunts again, and Betty says, “I don’t think a single one of his hook-ups have ever lied.  Oh god,” she breaks off, and Tony smirks, leaning back a little so he can take her bra off, tossing it over the side of the bed.  “Oh god, Bruce.”

 

Bruce’s gaze snaps over, and he groans as he sees them, the muscled curve of Tony’s back and Betty’s toes curling in the sheets, and then he looks back at his paper.  “Fuck this,” he mutters, saving before he stands.

 

“Tony,” Betty pants, arching up toward him, “Fuck.”

 

Tony groans softly, head dipping back down to kiss her breast, his thumb circling faster and faster until Betty’s threading a hand through his hair, whimpering.  The bed dips, and Tony looks back to see Bruce sitting on the edge, pulling off his socks.  “Jesus,” he mumbles, dropping his head to Betty’s shoulder as he closes his eyes.

 

“Tony,” Betty says, her voice high and thin, “Fuck, Tony.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh god,” Betty whines, her other hand curling around his shoulder, nails digging in, and Tony bites back a groan.  He brings his left hand down to cup her breast gently, thumb swiping up over her nipple, and Betty cries out, thigh pressing against Tony.

 

“Shit,” Bruce says, yanking off his shirt before he stands, fumbling with his jeans.

 

“Bruce,” Betty says, and then Tony’s pressing his cock against her, rubbing lightly, and it tips her over.  Betty’s nails scrape over his shoulder and up to his neck, scratching over the nape, where Tony’s most sensitive, and he whines, hiding his face in her neck as her hips twitch up toward him.

 

She comes down slowly, trembling, and Tony sighs, taking his hand back.  He feels like he’s about to be sexiled, _again_ , and he can’t even go back to his own room, _again_ , but then one of Bruce’s hands is curling around his hip, and he gives him a shove so that Tony goes over onto his back.  He starts to say Bruce’s name, but then Bruce is sliding between his knees, dipping down to meet him in a bruising kiss, and Tony groans, fingers coming up to fist in his hair and hold him there.

 

Bruce’s hands skim down, flittering over his sides before they’re hooking in Tony’s boxer briefs, and he tugs them off, laughing when Tony breaks away with a surprised gasp.  Bruce is already naked, and their cocks slide together, pulling a low moan from Tony.

 

“I thought you’d be louder,” Betty admits, looking over.

 

“Fuck,” Tony murmurs, “I am, I just—I dunno, trying to keep it low key for you guys.”

 

“Don’t hold back,” Betty says as she leans over, kissing his shoulder, “I want to hear you.”  She reaches a hand between them, fingers curling over their cocks, and Tony whines, pulling Bruce back down to him.  Betty lifts up onto an elbow, mouth dancing down Bruce’s side until she reaches his hip, and then he pulls away from Tony to kiss her as she comes back up.

 

“What do you want?” he asks her, and Betty grins, teeth scraping over her bottom lip.

 

“I’m more experienced in giving head,” she says.

 

“Shit,” Tony groans, closing his eyes.

 

“Okay,” Bruce says, and then he’s leaning away.  He starts to back off, but Tony looks so beautiful like this, spread out for them, legs hooked around Bruce’s, his cock sitting heavy against his belly.  He reaches a hand forward, pads of his fingers skimming up Tony’s dick, who gasps and opens his eyes, looking down the plane of his body at Bruce’s hand.  He wants to feel him, Bruce realizes, and so he curls his fingers around Tony’s cock, giving him an experimental tug, thumb pressing over the head, and Tony groans, visibly trying to stay flat against the bed.  He jerks him in slow, easy tugs, just getting the feel for it, and he loves the way Tony reacts to him, the muscles in his stomach fluttering as his legs shift, pressing closer against him.

 

“My turn,” Betty says suddenly, and Bruce just laughs, leaning over to kiss her before he moves away, giving her ample room.  “Hello, Tony,” she says, and Tony waves, grinning crookedly.

 

“You don’t have to,” he says before clearing his throat, “I mean, if either of you aren’t comfortable.”

 

“Nope, I’m good,” Bruce says before he drops down next to Tony, shoulder pressing against his, “Though I do expect something in return.”

 

“Are you implying that I’m allowed to touch your dick?” Tony asks even as he reaches over, fingers fisting tightly, squeezing the base.  “Whoops, already happening,” he says, and Bruce laughs, though it dissolves into a moan when Tony slides his hand up.  He starts to say something cheeky, but then Betty’s taking his cock in her mouth, sucking lightly, and he breaks off with a soft whine, other hand coming down to thread through Betty’s hair, just carding through for a few strokes before he rests it there.

 

She moves easily, hair swaying with her, and Tony turns his head, nose bumping Bruce’s jaw.  “Dude,” he says, and Bruce laughs.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Bruce says before he turns his head, letting Tony kiss him.

 

They drift together like that, Betty slowly bringing Tony closer to the edge as Tony’s wrist flicks in time to her, Bruce letting out these soft, barely there moans into his mouth as they kiss.  And then, Betty lifts away suddenly, and Tony whines, breaking away from Bruce to look down at her.  “What?” he says, brow furrowing.

 

“Can I try something?”

 

“Uh,” Tony says, “Maybe.  That depends.”

 

“Well—I’m a girl, so obviously we don’t react the same way to things as you do, and—”

 

“Get to the point.”

 

“Can I try boy things?”

 

Tony stares at her, brow furrowed, before he understands.  “Oh,” he says, mouth dropping open, “Uh—fuck—yeah, if you want.  Hey,” he says when she starts to lean back down, “Not so fast.  Do you have any lube anywhere?”

 

“Oh,” Betty says, already getting up, “Yeah, hang on.”

 

She hurries over to her desk, pulling open the second drawer as Tony leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder, breaths fanning over his arm.  Bruce is watching her, not entirely sure what’s about to happen, but then Betty’s clambering back onto the bed, and Tony pulls up his right knee, keeping the other leg pressed against Bruce’s.

 

“You,” Tony says, foot pressing against her thigh when she leans forward again, biting back her grin, “You need to slow down, eager beaver.”

 

“You did not just call her—oh my god,” Bruce mutters, laughing.

 

“So, one at a time?” Betty asks, and Tony nods.

 

“Be gentle,” Tony says, grinning, “It’s my first time with a lady up my butt.”  Bruce smacks him, and Tony starts laughing until Betty’s knuckles are brushing over his balls, and then he inhales, toes curling as the pad of her finger rubs over his entrance and then carefully slides in.  Tony tries to relax, tries to just let it happen, but Betty has long, beautiful fingers, and his knee presses in against her as she explores carefully, her other finger rubbing against him before that one’s going in, too.  Tony whines, left hand flailing down Bruce’s arm until he can find his hand, tangling their fingers together as he leans over to press his forehead against his shoulder.

 

“Wow, really?” Bruce says, looking down the plane of Tony’s body, “That good?”

 

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Tony groans because then Betty’s leaning forward, fingers rubbing over his prostate, and his cock twitches against his belly.

 

“Bruce, lend a hand,” Betty says, and Bruce snorts, but he reaches over anyway, fingers curling around Tony’s cock.

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Tony gasps, head rolling over until he can tip it back, and he doesn’t mean to, he tries to stop it, but his hips roll down toward Betty, and she just grins, sliding another finger in.

 

He’s close now, his whole body tight as warmth pools in his belly, and Bruce’s strokes get faster and tighter as he figures out a rhythm, Betty matching him, fingers fucking Tony’s ass, and it’s so much that he squeezes his eyes shut, voice pitching higher and higher until Betty shifts, passing over his prostate on every move, and Tony leans over, nose pressing against Bruce’s jaw.  “Bruce,” he says because he’s afraid he might scare him off, “Fuck, I’m close, just want you to know, I— _fuck_.”  His orgasm crashes through him, and Bruce lets out a soft, surprised noise as he comes, ass tightening around Betty’s fingers as a low, wrecked moan is pulled from his throat.

 

His vision goes white a second before he closes his eyes, letting it wash over him.  When he comes back down, Betty is kissing Bruce, though they break away when Tony’s forehead thuds against Bruce’s shoulder.  “You okay?” Betty laughs.

 

“That was fucking amazing,” he mumbles, and then he lifts a hand and slaps Bruce’s stomach lightly, “You should let me blow you.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce says even as Betty leans away.

 

“Are you too tired?” she asks, and she looks so eager that Tony laughs.

 

“Nah, just give me a second.  You’re good at that, holy fuck,” he says, “Both of you, actually.”  Betty just shrugs, grinning triumphantly.  It takes a few moments, but Tony stretches finally and says, “Alright, switch.”

 

Betty and he change positions until he’s kneeling between Bruce’s legs, and then it’s just a blur of bodies and noises and Betty’s hands fucking _everywhere_.  Tony sucks Bruce off, giving him the best head he’s likely to ever have, and, afterward, he’s struggling to come back down, breathing heavily as Tony smirks and kisses his chest.  And then, without giving either of them warning, he drops a knee over toward Betty, she starts to say that it’s fine, and he just silences her as he tugs off her panties.  In the end, Betty makes out with Bruce, though mostly she’s just holding him close as she moans, one of her hands fisted tightly in Tony’s hair as he puts his tongue to work, and she comes screaming, Bruce groaning as he presses closer to her.

 

After, they all lie together, Tony snug in between them, and it’s quiet in a comfortable sort of way until Bruce groans and says, “I still have to finish that paper.”

 

“I’ll write it for you,” Tony offers.

 

“No, it’s—come in!” Bruce calls when there’s a knock on the door.

 

“Bruce!” Betty exclaims, reaching for something to cover herself up with, but then Steve’s opening the door.

 

“It’s Steve,” Bruce says, “That’s how he knocks.”

 

“What the fuck!” Steve yells, starting to turn back out, but they all call for him to come in.  “Why are you all naked?” he asks, and, to Tony’s surprise, he looks at them, gaze flicking over their faces.

 

“Because we had sex, and it was beautiful,” Tony says before he pushes against Bruce’s chest, sitting up and rolling forward to stretch out his back.  “Motherfucker,” he groans, curling a hand back to rub at his shoulder.  “You should give me a massage later,” he mumbles, and Steve snorts.

 

“You still owe me one.”

 

Tony frowns at his voice, looking up.  “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just—” Steve breaks off, shrugging one shoulder, “Are you busy?”

 

“Not anymore.”  Tony straightens, twisting to each side so his spine pops, and then he gives Betty and Bruce a kiss each before he clambers over them and starts dressing.  “Wanna go for a walk while it’s still light out?” he asks as Bruce stretches and then smacks Tony, who grabs his boxers, tossing them over to him.

 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Steve says, smiling, and Tony just nods, pulling on his shirt.

 

“You two,” he says before he leaves, “This is not the end of our sexual exploration, I hope.”  He winks, Betty laughs, and then he and Steve head out.

 

They stop by the room to get Tony shoes, and then they’re making their way outside, walking for a while in silence before Steve nudges him and says, “So, you finally got with them.”

 

“Oh man,” Tony says, grinning, “That was so amazing.  I’m fucking exhausted now, but well worth it.  How was phone sex?” he teases, and Steve shakes his head, trying to hide his smile.

 

“It was okay,” he says.

 

“Just okay?”

 

“I don’t know, Tony,” Steve mumbles, kicking a rock, “I feel like things aren’t right between us.”

 

“How so?”

 

Steve shrugs.  “I don’t know if—if maybe I’m not—I don’t know if I love him, and I’m afraid he does.”

 

“Wow,” Tony says, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Has he said it?”

 

“Not yet,” Steve says, “But he’s coming to visit in October, and I think it might happen.  I’m—I’m scared, Tony.”

 

Tony frowns, glancing over at him.  He doesn’t know what to say to him.  He’s shit at this.  He’s never been able to tell anyone that he loved them back, never actually felt it, not until now, and the only person he feels like he might be able to say it to is trying to make things work with someone else entirely, so he shrugs and says, “I’m sorry, Steve.  I wish I could give you some advice, but I suck at relationships, man.  Johnny was the first person I’ve ever dated that didn’t want to use me solely for sex.  I guess—I guess if you don’t mean it, you shouldn’t say it back.  That seems only fair to Bucky, instead of saying something that you’re not fully behind.  It’s fucked up, man, cos it’s gonna hurt either way.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, frowning, “I don’t know.  I’ll figure it out.  I’ve got a month left, so.”

 

“Positive thinking,” Tony says, bumping shoulders with him.  Steve nods, but he still looks like shit, so Tony sighs and takes his hand from his pocket, stepping in as he brushes his fingers against Steve’s.  His smile is instantaneous, and then Steve’s threading their fingers together, squeezing lightly before they’re just resting there, and Tony starts to say something, to change the subject, when Steve’s thumb rubs a circle over the back of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duh! I hope you all remember what that means, that last line. Also, look at that! It was so much fun figuring out the Tony/Bruce/Betty relationship throughout this whole fic, and then, when it finally crescendos to this little scene, oh man. That was fun to write, to figure out, too, and so I hope you all enjoyed it. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	28. Chapter 28

Steve thinks about it all week.  He calls his mom on Tuesday, near tears, and she talks him down, stays with him on the phone for two hours while he rants, and, in the end, she tells him much the same as Tony.  He can’t tell Bucky he loves him if he doesn’t.

 

By the time Friday comes around, Tony’s clearly had enough of him moping around, and he lets Steve know they’re hosting a party tonight, and he has no option but to participate.  Steve starts to nod and open his laptop, but then Tony lets out this obnoxious noise that sounds like a pterodactyl and comes over, yanking Steve away from his desk and onto his bed.

 

“Shut up,” he says as he starts rolling a blunt.

 

It’s just what Steve needs.  They get absolutely wrecked, and, by the time eight o’clock is rolling around, they’re relaxed on his bed, Tony slumped over Steve, and they’re a giggling mess when the door opens, admitting Betty and Bruce.

 

“Aw, you started without us?” Bruce whines, coming over and jumping on top of them.

 

Betty and Bruce get high while Steve attempts to tidy up and get ready and Tony goes out for a booze run.  When he returns, it’s nearing nine o’clock, though people don’t start showing up until nine thirty.  By then, Steve is well on his way to getting wasted.  He lets out a roaring cheer when Thor shows up, and Thor responds in like, and then Tony just starts cackling, pointing between them until Thor says, “Ah ha!  My conquest!” and then Tony squeaks.

 

Thor and Tony end up gluing together, dancing until Steve’s fairly certain they should not be witnessing what’s going on, and that’s when his phone starts vibrating.  He digs it out of his pocket, starts to ignore it, and then sees it’s Bucky.  With a sigh, he pushes his way out of the dancing people and goes out into the hall, closing out the noise.  He clears his throat before he answers it, “Hey, I’m kind of tied up right now, mind if I—”

 

“Yes, I mind,” Bucky sighs, “You’re always busy.”

 

“Bucky, we—”

 

“Oh, we?  Great, so it’s Tony’s fault, _again_ , why I can’t talk to you.”

 

“No, we’re—” he breaks off when the door opens, and Tony hollers when he sees Steve.

 

“Yo, muscles, stop moping, get back in there!” he yells even as Thor herds him down the hall, hands darting over his body.

 

“Are you at a party?” Bucky asks.

 

“Uh,” Steve giggles, “Hosting one, actually.  _Dude_ , we haven’t done that in for _ever_.”

 

“Are you drunk?”

 

“Almost,” Steve says happily, leaning against the wall.

 

“Jesus, you’re such a fucking mess.”

 

“Bucky,” he whines.

 

“Don’t Bucky me.  I’m so sick of this bullshit, Steve.  Whenever I try to call, you’re either busy with Tony or getting high with him.  I’m assuming he gave you the alcohol, then?”

 

“He did buy it,” Steve says somberly.

 

“And is there some reason you feel the need to get drunk?  It’s one thing or the other with you.  He is a bad influence, Steve.”

 

“Hey,” Steve says, frowning as he pushes away from the wall, “Don’t say that.”

 

“Why, because it’s the truth?” Bucky snaps, “Jesus, Steve, that party I went to with you guys last year was _insane_ , and not in a good way.  Tony is out of control, and I could tell you were trying to rein it in for me, that you weren’t letting go, and that’s not okay.  You can’t just get wasted every weekend and expect things to be fine.”

 

“It worked all last year,” Steve mutters, “I don’t see what the problem is.  I’m not hurting anyone.”

 

“No, just yourself, and you know what, maybe me.  How am I supposed to trust you?  How am I supposed to know that you won’t cheat on me?  How am I supposed to know you haven’t already?”

 

Steve starts to say that he would never, but he can’t, and, where he never felt truly guilty when he was with Sharon, he’s suddenly overwhelmed with this horrible, sinking feeling.  Steve clears his throat again, walking away from his room.  “I would never cheat on you,” he says finally, “I can’t believe you have such little faith in me.”

 

“Can you blame me?” Bucky says, sounding defeated.

 

“Yes, I can fucking blame you,” Steve says, taking the back stairs until he’s far enough away that he can’t hear the music, and then he sits down, “I have done nothing but be good to you, and yet, you’re accusing me of being unfaithful and of hurting you.”

 

“Be honest with me,” Bucky says softly, “Have you kissed Tony since you got back to school?”

 

“No,” Steve says immediately.  His hand is trembling, and he closes his eyes.

 

“Have you slept in the same bed as him?”

 

“No.”

 

“Have you touched him in any way that’s not a fucking high five or a platonic hug?”

 

“No,” Steve says, and his voice almost breaks, “Bucky, I couldn’t do that to you.”  Bucky remains quiet until Steve can’t stand it, and he says, “Bucky, please.  Say something.”

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t come up in October.”

 

“No, please,” Steve says, “I want to see you.  I _need_ to see you.  I miss you so much, baby, I want you to come up.”

 

“Is Tony going to be there?”

 

“No, no, I’ll ask him to stay somewhere else,” Steve says, tilting his head back as tears prick at his eyes.

 

“Are we going to attend any parties?” Bucky asks.

 

“No.  We’ll stay in and just spend time together.  We can order out and watch movies and just be together.  It’ll be so amazing to be able to have so much unlimited time together.  Please, Bucky, _please_.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky says finally, “Can I ask a favor, though?”

 

“Anything, baby, anything you want,” Steve says, opening his eyes again.

 

“I want you to stop partying.”

 

“What?”  Steve frowns, not sure he’s heard him right.

 

“It’s hurting us.  Every time you go out with Tony, you don’t remember what happened the night before, and that scares me.  I don’t _like_ parties, Steve.  They’re dangerous when you party like you and he do.  Please.  It’s just a small thing.  It’ll make me feel better.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, “Okay, I’ll just, um—it’s in my room right now.”

 

“Can we talk, then?  Come on, we’ve barely talked this week.  I miss you, Steve.”

 

“I miss you, too, Bucky.  I can’t wait to see you.”

 

“Me either,” Bucky says, and his voice is a little warmer.  Steve does his best to be enthusiastic, and he thinks he fools Bucky, but he just wants to hang up and cry.  They talk for two hours before the stairs creak, and Steve looks over his shoulder to find Tony peering down at him.

 

“Is everything okay?” Tony asks, and he looks so concerned that Steve can’t hold it in anymore, and he shakes his head as his eyes well with tears.

 

“Steve?” Bucky says.

 

“Hey, I’m here,” he mumbles, turning back as Tony comes down the stairs, sitting next to him, “Um, I think I’m gonna go to bed, if you don’t mind.  I’m really tired.”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky says, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

 

“Absolutely.  Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight, babe,” Bucky says, and then the line cuts, and Steve breaks.

 

He drops his phone, sucking in a tight breath, and Tony instantly scoots over, looping his arms around Steve.  “Tony,” he says, his voice shattering around his name, and Tony just holds him tightly, pressing their heads together as Steve cries.  “I can’t do this,” he mumbles, shaking, “I don’t want to lose him, but I’m going to, I can feel it, I’m going to lose him, and I can’t, Tony, I _can’t_.”

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Tony whispers, hand coming down to rub circles in his back, “Just breathe, Steve.  You guys will work through it, and you’ll be okay.”

 

“I—”

 

“Be quiet, and breathe with me,” Tony says, and Steve tries to laugh, but it just dissolves into another sob, and Tony shushes him, closing his eyes and letting his breaths be audible until Steve starts to calm down, and then they just sit there, Tony sliding back over to give Steve space.  “Do you want to talk about it?” Tony asks.

 

“I don’t love him,” Steve says, shrugging one shoulder, “I like him, I really do.  God, I love having him in my life, and I love him as a person, but I’m not _in love_ with him.”

 

“Could you learn to be?” Tony asks.

 

Steve looks over at him, and he wants to scream.  “Don’t ask me that,” he says, shaking his head, “Not you, please don’t ask me that.  Not you, Tony.”

 

“Steve, what—”

 

“You know why,” he says, and then he’s jerking to his feet and leaving before Tony has time to process, and, when he does, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to face Steve again.

 

——

 

The next three weeks are hell.

 

Tony barely spends any time with Steve as he tries to repair his relationship with Bucky, calling whenever he wants to talk, skyping almost every night, and he stops going to parties, as well, until Tony starts going alone, which is always a recipe for disaster.  As the days pass by, Tony starts to recognize his best friend less and less until he just stops trying.

 

The day Bucky’s due to arrive, Tony gets back from class to find Steve on the phone with him, and he just shakes his head and goes to pack.  He’s staying with Betty and Bruce for the weekend, and he just wants to get out of here as fast as possible.

 

He’s nearly finished with packing when Steve says, “Alright, I have to go.”  Bucky says something in return, but Steve cuts him off, “No, I’ll see you when you get here.  I’d like to talk to Tony for a few minutes, if that’s okay with you.”  He waits, listening, and Tony looks over his shoulder when Steve sighs.  He doesn’t say goodbye, but he does hang up, and then he turns, shaking his head.  “I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says, and he looks so tired, Tony almost wants to forgive him for abandoning him.

 

“For what?” he says, shrugging as he turns back to his backpack.

 

“Can we talk?”

 

“I don’t really want to talk to you,” Tony admits, zipping it up and shouldering it before he turns.  Steve is behind him, and Tony sighs, looking up at him.  “What?”

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I hate what he’s doing, but I don’t want to lose him, and—”

 

“You know, Steve,” Tony says, letting his backpack fall onto the bed, “Every single one of my relationships, aside from the last one, was abusive.  Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

 

Steve frowns, his breath catching as he understands Tony’s implication.  He tries to defend himself, “He’s not—”

 

“Oh, he fucking is,” Tony cuts him off, “He may not hit you, and he may not demand sexual favors or whatever, but he’s playing mind games with you.  He’s forced you to stop going to parties, to stop drinking, to stop hanging out with your friends, and I get that he’s nervous of me, that he’s fucking jealous, and he has every right to be, but you are my best friend, Steve, and I refuse to lose you to some college crush.”

 

“He’s not some—”

 

“He is,” Tony says, “You’re not going to marry him.  You can’t even admit you love him.”

 

Steve lets his fist fly, and he sees Tony’s smirk too late.  Tony deflects it, and then he attacks.  The back of his hand slaps lightly against Steve’s jaw before he shoves him, and then they’re on top of each other, and it’s more sparring than fighting because there’s no malice behind it, no other motive than to release all this pent up aggression between them.

 

They dance, darting around one another, deflecting blows and delivering them, and Steve can’t stop the grin that forms.  He’s missed this, interacting with Tony on a physical level, and he gives him as good as he gets.  They fight until, without warning, Tony shoots forward, catching Steve’s wrist, and he flips him, fucking _flips him_.

 

Steve hits the ground with a thud, groaning, as Tony leaps and lands on top of him, one knee pinning him down.  “Okay, ninja,” Steve mutters, and Tony just grins.

 

He gives Steve’s cheek a little pat before standing and holding out a hand.  He helps Steve to his feet, and then shrugs one shoulder and says, “Better?”

 

“Dude,” Steve sighs, “Wanna get high and hash this out?”

 

Tony snorts.  “Nice pun, idiot,” he says before he goes over to his desk, pulling open his drug drawer.  He rolls them a blunt each as Steve goes to sit on his bed, and, when Tony joins him, he takes an eager pull, groaning afterward.

 

“Man, that’s good,” he says, eyes closing as he sinks back against his pillows, “I missed this.”

 

“I missed you, asshole,” Tony mutters, dropping down beside him before he stretches out and starts singing, “Let’s talk about sex, baby, let’s talk about you and me.”

 

“Let’s talk about all the good things and all the bad things that may be,” Steve finishes for him, and Tony cheers.

 

They get good and stoned, talking about nothing of import, until Tony’s feeling loose enough that he leans into Steve and says, “So, un-virgin.  Tell me about your dick.”

 

“You’re so crude,” Steve says, exhaling smoke, “Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?”

 

“I suck cock with this mouth,” Tony says, and Steve starts laughing, “Have you ever?”

 

“Yeah.  With Johnny first—well, everything was with Johnny first, and then—”

 

“Shit, really?  Damn it, Steve, I’m so sorry.  I knew you’d slept with him, but I didn’t know he was your first.”

 

“It’s cool, dude, it’s in the past,” Steve says, waving a hand, “He’s fucking amazing, so I don’t blame you.”

 

“Jesus, right?  God, he’s so fucking attractive.  I love sex, Steve, I love it so much.”

 

“I can’t believe you had sex with the super couple,” Steve says, shifting until he can lean his head on top of Tony’s, which is resting against his shoulder.

 

“It was beautiful,” Tony says, “Exquisite, really.  Nothing will ever be better than that.  Oh, _Betty_ , Steve.  She’s a goddess.  She has to be.”

 

“Oh no,” Steve says, frowning, “It’s almost gone.”

 

“I have more, it’s just—woah, that’s nice.  That’s real nice.  I’m never getting up again.  You’ll have to roll them this time, and—why is someone breaking into our room?  Someone!” Tony yells as the door opens, “Go away!”

 

Steve looks over, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more disappointed in him in his entire life.  “Hey,” Bucky says, frowning, “What’s that—” he breaks off as Tony sits up, blunt held tight between his lips as he inhales.  “Are you fucking serious?” Bucky says, and then Steve’s moving, pulling Tony off the bed and shoving him toward his own.

 

“Bucky—”

 

“I can’t fucking believe you!” Bucky screams.

 

Tony grabs his backpack and tries to split, but Bucky grabs him with his left hand, his right coming up in a fist, too fast for Tony’s lazy mind, and he ends up on the floor, dazed.  When he blinks, clearing his vision, Steve is holding Bucky back and yelling for him to get out, and he manages to scramble to his feet and stumble out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

 

——

 

Tony falls through Betty and Bruce’s doorway as he’s trying to open it, and they both look over in surprise before Betty’s jumping out of her chair and hurrying over to him.  “Oh my god, are you okay?” she asks, dropping to her knees and reaching for him.

 

“That fucking _hurt_ ,” Tony says, pushing up onto his knees and lifting a hand to his jaw.

 

“Shit, Tony,” Bruce says, turning in his chair and rolling forward.  He pulls Tony’s hand away, frowning at the ugly red mark on his jaw.  “Did someone hit you?” he asks.

 

“Bucky,” he mutters, working his jaw in slow rotations.

 

“What did you do?” Betty asks, sighing.

 

“Nothing!” Tony exclaims, “I think it was my existence.”

 

Betty frowns, shaking her head.  “Come on,” she says, curling a hand around his elbow as she helps him stand.

 

——

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Steve yells, releasing Bucky and stepping back.

 

Bucky throws his backpack as he spins around.  “ _Me_?” he roars, shoving Steve’s chest, “What’s wrong with _me_?  You’re the one in bed with _him_ , getting high, after I explicitly asked you not to!”

 

“You asked me not to go parties, asshole!  I can’t believe you just hit him!”

 

“Oh, like you’ve never hit him before!” Bucky shouts, shoving him again, “Of course I fucking I hit him!  I _hate_ him!”

 

“I would _never_ put hands on him, not after everything!”

 

“Oh, _after everything_!” Bucky croons, “Of course, because Tony Stark is the _golden child_!  Well, excuse me for thinking he’s a waste of fucking space!  All he does is get high, get drunk, and get laid!  He is useless, and he treats you like trash!”

  
“He is my _best friend_!” Steve shouts, staring at Bucky in horror, “He has been through all of this shit with me, and he’s stuck around, and I’m not just going to drop him!”

 

“No, because it’s the fucking Tony show!” Bucky screams, and, this time, when he shoves his chest, Steve grabs his wrists and pushes him back, releasing him when he staggers.  Bucky shakes it off, glaring viciously at him.  “You never have time for me,” he seethes, “You never want to talk.  You think I can’t tell when you’re bored with me?  You think I don’t know when you just want to go back to your friends and forget I even fucking exist?  Even over the summer, when I naïvely thought I might be able to hold your attention, it was still Tony this and the super couple that and Johnny this and Thor that and every other fucking person but _me_ , Steve, your _boyfriend_.  We have been dating for _eight months_ , and I feel like I barely know you.”

 

“Whose fault is that?” Steve counters, “You could have asked more!  You could have fucking taken control of that!  Why do you think I was always asking you so many questions and bringing up so many different topics?  I wanted to get to know every facet of you, wanted to know your opinions on things and understand the way your brain worked.  I wanted to be your _friend_ , as well as your boyfriend, Bucky.  I didn’t want to just fuck all the time and maybe make a public appearance every once in a while.  I wanted to go out and—and have adventures.  I wanted to be stupid together, to laugh on top of a mountain and go on picnics and spend time together outside of my bedroom and the fucking movies and the same goddamn restaurant.  And I told you that, over and over again, and you always said, next weekend, we’ll do it next weekend, and we never did.  I tried so hard, and you just bailed on me every turn.”

 

“I didn’t want to lose you!” Bucky exclaims, “You’re so out of control sometimes, Steve!  I can’t even fathom what you must be like _here_ , in school, with Tony and Betty and even fucking Bruce.  You’re all so wild, I was afraid I was going to lose you.”

 

“You’re losing me by keeping me caged in,” Steve says, shaking his head, “I feel like I’m suffocating.  I feel like I’m—like I’m _drowning_ , Bucky.  I need someone to pull me out.  I can’t _breathe_.”

 

“Let me be that person,” Bucky says, coming across the room again, “Let me be there for you, Steve.”

 

He reaches for Steve’s hand, but Steve shakes his head, stepping away from him.  “No,” he says quietly.

 

“Steve,” Bucky says, just staring at him.  Silence settles between them, thick and terrible, and then, Bucky breaks it, “I love you.”

 

Steve turns away, closing his eyes.

 

“Steve, say something.”

 

Steve shakes his head, facing him again.  He shrugs one shoulder and says, “I don’t.  I’m so sorry, Bucky, but I—I don’t.  I’ve tried so hard, and I’ve thought about this over and over, and I—I can’t—I can’t force myself into loving you.  I’m so sorry.  I never meant to hurt you.”

 

Bucky takes a staggering step back, looking down, and he looks so confused, Steve just wants to go to him and fold him away.  “I should go,” he says finally.

 

“Okay,” Steve says, and that’s it.

 

Bucky looks back up at him, chin shaking as he holds back tears.  “Why would you do this to me?” he whispers, and Steve looks away, biting his lip.  “I just don’t understand.”

 

“Bucky, please,” Steve says, jaw clenching tightly.

 

After a long stretch of silence, Bucky picks up his backpack and leaves, and Steve starts counting in his head.  When a full minute passes, he jerks toward the door, skipping into a run as he yanks it open.  The door has barely closed when Bucky comes back around the corner, and Steve falters only a moment before he keeps going, walking quickly.  “Where are you going?” Bucky asks, frowning at him.

 

“You punched my best friend, asshole,” Steve says, and he steps around Bucky when he really wants to let his shoulder drop into him.  Bucky turns, but Steve doesn’t bother to wait for his reaction before he’s pushing open Betty and Bruce’s door.

 

They all look up as the door opens, Tony sitting on the bed with Betty, Bruce at his fridge, getting a water.  “Tony,” Steve whispers, and then he’s hurrying forward, dropping to his knees as he reaches up, cradling his face as he looks up at him.  “Are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head into the light so he can see his jaw.

 

Tony twists out of his hands, brow furrowed.  “What are you doing here?” he asks.  Steve takes his face in his hands again, thumb stroking over his cheek as he frowns at the red mark that will blossom into a bruise.  “Steve,” Tony says, twisting out again, “Why are you here?”

 

“He hit you,” Steve says like it’s the simplest thing.  Tony blinks as Steve meets his gaze, and he shakes his head.  “Are you okay?” Steve asks again.

 

“What are you doing here?” Tony echoes, “Go back to Bucky, you need to—”

 

“He’s gone,” Steve says, and there’s a flash of something that Tony can’t identify before Steve’s sighing and dropping his head down, hands still curled around Tony’s jaw.

 

“Steve,” he says softly, reaching up a hand to curl around his forearm, just holding, “What happened?”

 

“We broke up,” Steve says, and Tony just goes.  He slides off the bed onto the floor, arms coming around Steve even as Steve sags into him, arms limp by his sides.  Tony shifts closer, one hand sliding up to thread through the fine hairs at the back of his neck, palm curving around his head, the other pressing warmly against the middle of his back.

 

“You’ll be okay,” Tony whispers.

 

“I know,” Steve says before he starts crying, and Tony just holds him, closing his eyes and leaning their heads together.

 

“Hush now,” he murmurs, “Just breathe.”

 

Steve steadies himself rather quickly, and then he leans back, lifting a hand to wipe at his face.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, hand drifting down to trace over Tony’s jaw.

 

Tony shakes his head.  “I’ve had worse,” he says, grinning crookedly, and then, his hand coming up to squeeze Steve’s shoulder, “You wanna get out of here?”

 

“Yes,” Steve says, “Please.  Just—can we just go somewhere?”

 

“Anywhere,” Tony says, “We’ll take my car, go on an adventure.”

 

Steve smiles lightly.  “Thank you.”

 

“Anything for you,” Tony says, and Steve thinks he means it.

 

——

 

They drive for two hours before they finally reach their destination, a gorgeous stretch of beach with rolling waves.  There are only a few people scattered around, but Tony parks away from everyone else, and they get out.  He immediately takes off his shoes and leaves them in the car, and Steve laughs when he runs forward, bare feet kicking up sand as he goes.  He thinks about what he must have been like at the beach when he was younger, how much Maria must have had to chase him around.

 

Steve leaves his shoes in the car, as well, and then he follows Tony at a slower pace.  They wander around for a bit until Tony starts skipping rocks and Steve starts looking for shells.  When he next looks up, Tony is digging in the sand, crouched over it, and he can’t resist the urge, so he creeps over and knocks him over, which of course means Tony runs for the water, Steve chasing him, and that’s how it happens that Steve lifts Tony in the air and throws him in the water, but Tony clings to him, and they both go down.

 

In the end, they’re soaked by the time they’re heading back up to the beach, but Tony ran into their room before they left, and he surprises Steve with a change of clothes for each of them.  Tony very gentlemanly holds up a towel while Steve dries off and changes, so Steve returns the favor once he’s done.

 

After, they find somewhere nearby to eat, and Tony makes him try every different fish he can get his hands on until their table is overflowing with plates, and they’re both laughing loudly and smiling widely.  Tony swats at Steve when he tries to look at the bill, slips a credit card in and smiles charmingly at their waiter, and then demands they find somewhere for ice cream.  And so, when Tony’s paid, they head out, walking along the street, past a variety of interesting stores, many of which they stop in, until they finally find ice cream, and then Tony spends an absurd amount of time trying to decide which flavor until Steve agrees to let him steal some of his strawberry, so Tony gets mint chip, and they both take turns on each other’s.

 

When they eventually get back to the car, Tony is yawning widely, and so Steve asks for the keys, and Tony just hands them over, humming pleasantly.  He curls up in the passenger seat as Steve brings the engine to life, and he’s asleep in minutes, though he does try to stay up and talk to Steve.  Once he’s out, Steve turns on the radio, something soft and quiet, and though he cries briefly, he’s okay.  He lets his mind wander, just thinking, and, when they get back to the dorm and he coaxes Tony out of the car, he feels like he might have just opened a new chapter in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO, GET READY, IT’S COMING. I would say more, but I don’t feel well, and I have to leave for work in a few minutes, so I hope you enjoyed, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is an art note! This is also a new thing. I have something that I want to share, something I am just over the moon about, and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have such an amazing friend who took time out of her day to draw a scene from this fic. Yes, I’m talking about the lovely Erin, and yes, she is incredibly talented and drew Tony. If you remember, the second floor of Maria’s art gallery contains Tony’s collection, _little hands_ , and his profile is just before you enter, which is what [Erin drew](http://undertheblu.tumblr.com/image/88022864553). I think it’s so beautiful, and it’s absolutely how Maria would have drawn him, and I’m just so excited about it. This is not the end, either! I gave her a list of requests before we parted ways after graduation, and so there are hopefully many more drawings to come from various moments of this fic, both upcoming and those you’ve already read. I’m going to be adding them in to the respective chapters, so if you look back at chapter nineteen, there’s a note that’s been added at the top that I’m calling an “art note,” like the music notes. So, keep an eye out for those in the future, and I’ll let you know when new ones are added, :)

The first week is hard.  Though Steve knows that he was unhappy, knows that it was the right thing to do, he can’t help wanting to cry every time he opens his phone to text Bucky about something, or looks over when it buzzes, expecting it to be him calling, but then, on Wednesday, when Steve gets back after class, Tony has waited for him for dinner, and Steve smiles.  After, because neither of them have class on Thursday until one, Tony decides they’re gonna do homework only for a couple hours before they stay up late just hanging out.  They end up doing yoga for nearly two hours, and then Tony disappears for a few minutes only to return with Betty and Bruce and _Cards Against Humanity_ , and they spend the rest of the night laughing hysterically.  When Betty and Bruce go back to their room, Tony pops in a movie and starts to come over, though he pauses halfway and sighs.  “Is it okay if I sit on your bed with you?” he asks.

 

“Please,” Steve says, scooting over so there’s enough room for him, and Tony just grins and takes a running start, and Steve yelps when he jumps, bouncing down on the bed.  “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, so Tony tickles him.

 

The first weekend starts out horribly, but Tony doesn’t let it get far.  He distracts Steve, bugging him until Steve agrees to go on a blind adventure, which Tony squeals excitedly about before promising to be back in fifteen minutes so they can leave.  When he does return, he’s got Betty and Bruce in tow, Peggy and Pepper shouting down the hall that they’ll be right there, and he’s on the phone with Johnny, who’s going to bring his new boyfriend, Peter.  Steve tries to ask questions, but they all shush him, and so he just goes along for the ride.  Peggy and Pepper squish in with Betty and Bruce in the back of Tony’s car, and then they’re off.  When they arrive at their destination, Steve just laughs, shaking his head.  “Thank you,” he says as everyone else gets out, and Tony just nods, flashing him a soft smile.

 

They waste away the night eating greasy pizza, drinking cheap beer, and bowling.  On their way out, Johnny notices the pool tables in another section, and immediately pulls them off for a mini-tournament.  It turns out to be one of the best nights Steve’s had in a long time, and, as they’re driving home, Tony humming along to whatever’s playing on the radio, Steve can’t stop looking at him.  He’s so handsome like this, illuminated by the dashboard, shadows playing over the planes of his face, so at ease.  His hand is curled loosely around the gear shift in the center console, and though Steve wants to hold his hand, he’s not ready yet, and so he settles for just sneaking glances.

 

Saturday, Tony asks if he wants to go to a party at Thor’s, and Steve agrees instantly, to which Tony grins.  He takes it easy, dancing occasionally and drinking slowly—he doesn’t want to get wasted, but he doesn’t want to be the guy standing in the corner, so he mixes and mingles until the night is waning on, and he goes to find his jacket.  He intends to leave without Tony, imagining he’ll end up in Thor’s bedroom, but then Tony pops up at his elbow, nudging him.  “Ready to go?” he asks, reaching for his own jacket.

 

“Yeah, you’re not staying?”

 

“Nah,” Tony says, “I’m actually kind of tired.”

 

“What about Thor?” Steve asks.

 

“What about him?” Tony says before he pulls on his jacket and heads for the door.  Steve watches him go, smiling.

 

On Sunday, they sleep in late, go to brunch with the super couple, and then spend the first half of the day inside doing homework until Tony starts whining about being bored, so Steve asks him to go for a long walk, and they end up spending the afternoon trekking through the nearby woods until they find a small cliff, and they watch the sunset sitting upon it.  When they get back, it’s dark, and Tony’s hungry, so they go to dinner, do yoga, and then finish their respective homework before Tony pops in a game and coerces Steve onto one of the beanbags to play with him.

 

The second week is better.  Tony starts texting him during his classes whenever he’s bored, and, by Thursday, he’s doing the same to him.  Friday, Steve only has French, but Tony’s gone until two thirty, and so he’s confused when someone comes knocking around two.  He answers the door, smiling when he sees Betty.  “Hey,” he says, pulling open the door and letting her in.  Steve goes back to his desk while Betty sits on his bed, and he turns to face her.  “What’s up?”

 

“How are you?” Betty asks, trying for a smile, but Steve’s knowing expression makes her sigh.  “I’m trying to be discreet, shut up,” she says, “I wanted to see how you were doing after everything.”

 

“Better now,” Steve admits, “A lot better.  I miss him, but I’m happier.”

 

“That’s excellent, Steve,” Betty says, smiling.  “Now you can start flirting with all the cute boys in your classes,” she teases, and Steve laughs.  “I’m curious,” she says, “Are you still into girls?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, nodding, “Though I don’t think as much anymore.  I wouldn’t be objected to dating a girl again, but—I dunno, I—” Steve breaks off, sighing.  He scrubs a hand through his hair before he comes over and sits next to Betty.  “I might be interested in someone.”

 

“Oh?” Betty says, looking over at him, “Do I know this person?”

 

Steve nods.  “I’m not sure if it’ll work out, though.”

 

Betty grins as she asks, “Have I had sex with this person?”

 

“Well, that narrows it down,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, and Betty just laughs.  “You have,” Steve says.

 

“Sweetheart,” Betty says, taking one of his hands in both of hers, “I promise you, if you treat him with respect and honesty instead of all that shit last year, you will never have a more loving, kind, and thoughtful boyfriend.  He is an amazing person, and I know, with certainty, that if you want to be in a relationship with him, he will be more than happy to reciprocate.  He is still very much interested in you, or hadn’t you noticed the painfully obvious hints he’s been dropping?”

 

“What?” Steve says, eyebrows going up.

 

“Steve,” Betty says, smiling, “Open your eyes.  You’re going to see something incredible happening to our mutual best friend.”  Betty pats his hand before standing.  “I’ll see you later for dinner,” she says before she leaves.

 

Steve sits there after she’s gone, staring at the door until it opens, and then, like golden sunshine pouring liquid through his veins, he feels warmer just seeing Tony, and he smiles.

 

——

 

As November starts to get colder, Sara starts bugging Steve to ask Tony over for Thanksgiving again to the point where’s she texting him the same thing every day until the second week of November arrives, and Steve is about ready to throw his phone at the wall.  They’re walking back from dinner when he groans at his fourth text, and, when they get back to the room, he dumps onto his bed as Tony goes over to his desk, and says, “Dude, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

 

“I was gonna stay here,” Tony says, shrugging, “My mom’s going to Italy again to visit her sister.”

 

Steve pushes up onto his elbows so he can see Tony and says, “Wanna come back with me again?”

 

“Are you sure?” Tony asks, looking over, “I don’t want to impose.”

 

“Today alone, I’ve gotten four texts from my mother demanding I ask you.”

 

Tony laughs, shrugging.  “As long as you want me there, as well.”

 

“Of course, man,” Steve says, dropping back down, “Dude, last year was so much fun, it’ll be awesome.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, “Sounds good.  Hey, wanna do yoga?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve groans, rolling off his bed, “Though I demand a massage later.”

 

“You just want me to touch you,” Tony teases, going over to his dresser.

 

“Probably,” Steve says, and Tony laughs.

 

Steve can’t help it.  He looks over as Tony steps out of his sweats, admiring his physique.  God, he’s missed looking.  After everything with Bucky, after his accusations over the summer, and the seemingly endless stream of fights, he’s missed this thing between them, this unspoken magnetism that keeps bringing them back to each other, over and over again.

 

Steve smiles, turning back to his dresser and getting out his yoga pants.  When they finally unroll their mats, Tony unfolds his legs and then reaches out, fingers wiggling.  Steve goes without thinking, lacing their fingers together, and they stretch out together, pushing and pulling until they’re loose limbed and ready.

 

They work through their core, Tony introducing a few new moves, Steve pushing him over when he starts to get into a split stand, Tony laughing until he keeps falling out of his dancer plank.  When they’re done, Tony demands Steve try a scorpion, and, for the next half hour, he’s helping Steve get into it until he finally manages to hold it.  “Just breathe, hang out,” Tony says, hurrying over behind him and getting into scorpion himself.  “I’m gonna touch you, don’t freak out,” Tony says quietly before his feet are coming down, toes brushing over Steve’s ankles before the tops of their feet are pressing together, and Steve grins.

 

“This must look badass,” Steve says before he starts to come out, and Tony follows him, dropping back down.

 

“We should work on some more partner yoga.  It’s not as epic as acroyoga, but it’s still really freaking cool,” Tony says, stretching out his back.  Steve starts to do a shoulder clasp, but then he groans, one shoulder sagging down.  “Is your neck still bothering you?” Tony asks, coming over, “Dude, it’s been forever since you last complained about it.”

 

“It comes and goes,” Steve says, and he means to say more, but then Tony’s hands are on him, fingers digging in, warm against his skin, and he sighs, head tilting to the side to give Tony better access.  Tony massages his neck and shoulders until he feels like he could crawl into bed and pass out, and then his hands leave him, and Steve blinks back to wakefulness, his smile a little dopey.

 

“Come on, you— _puppy_ ,” Tony ends with lamely, and Steve just laughs softly, letting Tony haul him to his feet and give him a nudge over toward his bed.  Steve flops down, but Tony comes over, pulling him back up.  “Arms up,” he says, and Steve lifts his arms, letting Tony pull off his shirt.  He pats his thigh and says, “Pants off,” before he goes over to Steve’s dresser and finds himself something to sleep in.

 

When he gets back, Steve takes the shirt, pulling it on, and then he stretches, dropping back.  Tony starts to leave, and then Steve’s hand comes out, fingers circling Tony’s wrist.  He looks back, unsure of how to proceed, but then Steve looks over his shoulder, smiling lightly, and says, “Sleep with me?”

 

“Are you sure?” Tony asks, and Steve nods.

 

“Yeah, positive,” Steve says, shrugging one shoulder, “I miss you.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says after a moment, slipping out of Steve’s hold to go change.  When he gets back, Steve is yawning widely, and he starts to fight with himself, standing at the edge of the bed, but then Steve mumbles something incomprehensible, reaches out an arm to pull at Tony, and Tony laughs, letting Steve tug until he’s sagging against him a little, and then he climbs over, dropping down on his side.  “Steve,” he says when they’re settled.

 

“Not yet,” Steve says, though he reaches over, patting along Tony’s arm until he gets to his hand, and then he slides their fingers together.  “Not yet,” he murmurs, eyes closing, and though Tony wants to tell him he’s sick of waiting, sick of being dragged around, sick of wondering if they’ll ever actually get anywhere he just sighs and lets it happen, hoping he’s not wrong yet again.

 

——

 

They take Tony’s car home on Friday around three, after Tony’s gotten out of class, and they chatter the whole ride home because they haven’t seen each other all day, telling stories from their classes, and, when they get to the house, the girls are bouncing in the doorway, cheering excitedly when they finally pull up.  After they’ve gotten their things, Steve and Tony go to greet them, and Emma immediately clings to Tony, who scoops her up and hoists her onto his back, carrying her into the house.  They pause by the kitchen to say hello to Sara and Joe, who are cooking dinner together.  “Be down in ten, boys!” she calls when they turn back out, and Tony sets Emma down by the stairs, letting her lead the way up.

 

In Steve’s room, she clambers up onto Steve’s bed as they unpack, talking quickly about all the things she and Tony are going to do while he’s here, and Tony just laughs and takes it all in.  When it’s time for dinner, Tony takes his meds, and then they head downstairs, crowding around the island.  It’s so much easier than last time, and Tony fits in like he’s always been here, going back and forth with the girls until he feels like he’s home again.

 

Emma demands a yoga display in honor of Tony’s second Thanksgiving with them, and so he and Steve digest in the living room, catching up on everything until Emma starts whining, and they shush her by leaving to change and grab their mats.  Their routine has come along nicely in the past two and a half months of practice, and so Steve’s family keeps letting out these gasping breaths, and they erupt in applause when they’re finished.

 

After, Steve and Tony go upstairs, and it’s different— _they’re_ different.

 

They linger, fingers ghosting over elbows and backs until Tony goes to look at Steve’s gaming options while Steve showers.  When he returns, Tony looks over his shoulder and smiles.  He thinks he looks most handsome like this, his hair hanging damp around him, his skin clean and soft-looking, his sweats hanging low on his hips, revealing a thin strip of stomach below his shirt.

 

“Stop staring, Tony,” Steve murmurs.

 

“Don’t feel like it,” Tony says in return before he gets up and comes over.  While Steve is turned away, he presses a warm kiss between his shoulder blades, and then saunters off to shower, Steve laughing as he goes.

 

He sees Tony’s top three choices for games, but he’s tired, and so he crawls into bed and attempts to read, but he’s out cold within a few lines.

 

Tony finds him like this, snoring softly, his arm hanging off the bed, and a book on his chest.  He smiles, finishes drying his hair, and then goes over and tucks him in, putting away the book before he finds his phone and goes out into the hall.  He dials Maria on facetime, looking around while it rings.

 

“Il mio amore, **(My love)** ,” Maria says suddenly, and Tony looks down at his phone, giving her his best smile.

 

“Ciao, mamma,” he says, “Come sta l'Italia?  **(How’s Italy?)** ”

 

“Bella,” Maria sighs, “I’m trying to convince your father to tear down and rebuild the summer house here, open it up so we’ll have more room to have people over.”

 

“In Florence?”

 

“Oh goodness, no.  Sicily.  I took the girls on a trip earlier in the week.  You don’t remember the house?  We used to go all the time when you were little.”

 

“Maybe,” Tony says, “We went to a lot of places when I was younger, mamma.”

 

“The first time we went, after you’d learned how to talk and strut around like Cher, you had gelato.  You were so offended it didn’t taste like ice cream.  You kept stomping your feet, shouting, _Voi ingannato mi!_   **(You tricked me!)** ”

 

“Yeah,” Tony laughs, “The house on the beach, right?  With the hammock?”

 

“Oh, you loved that!” Maria exclaims, “You and I kept falling asleep in it at night until Howard just stopped bringing us inside.  It was so wonderful waking to the waves.”

 

“We should go again this summer,” Tony says fondly, “We don’t do that anymore.”

 

“We just went to France!”

 

“I was in school,” Tony says, waving dismissively, “Doesn’t count.”

 

“Tony,” Maria sighs.

 

“Why do you want to tear it down?  Just put in an addition,” Tony says.

 

Maria waves a hand, and Tony laughs, knowing what’s coming.  “Mi annoio. Voglio scuotere le cose un po ', divertirsi un po'.  **(I’m bored.  I want to shake things up a bit, have some fun.)** ”

 

“You’re absurd.”

 

“Just a little,” Maria says, smiling.  The background shifts as she takes Tony into the bathroom, where she gets ready for bed at the vanity.  “Oh, I forgot,” she says before she launches into a story about her sister, and though Tony listens, he’s distracted watching her.  She very rarely does her face when they’re together, and so he starts to see his mother instead of Maria Stark as the makeup comes off.  “You’re drifting,” Maria says as she starts applying a face mask, “Where are you?”

 

“Nine—Australia.  Physically, in the hallway.  Steve’s asleep.  Mamma, I think something’s happening.”

 

“Something?” Maria repeats, pausing and looking over at him, “With Steve?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

“Is he?”

 

“Almost, I think.”

 

Maria smiles and finishes her mask.  “Then leap,” Maria says, “I am certain the outcome will be beautiful.”

 

“Mamma,” Tony sighs.

 

“Hush,” Maria says, “Don’t try to contradict me.  Sono madre, so tutto.  **(I am mother, I know all.)** ”

 

Tony laughs, head dropping forward.  “You’re so ridiculous.”

 

“Where do you think you got it from?” she teases, and Tony looks up, smiling.  “You should go to sleep, darling.  You look tired, and you’re making me sleepy.”

 

“Hypocrite,” Tony says, stretching, “Call me tomorrow?”

 

“Of course, dear.  Oh, is Steve’s grandmother going to be there?”

 

“I don’t know, why?”

  
“Behave.  I know she’s rude, but you’re a guest.”

 

“I _know_ ,” Tony sighs, “Goodnight, Sonny.  I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, Cher.  Sogni d'oro.  **(Sweet dreams.)** ”

 

They hang up, and Tony stays a moment longer before he stands, twists until his spine pops, and then he goes back into Steve’s room.

 

——

 

In the morning, when Tony wakes, he’s warm.

 

He stirs slowly, yawning until his jaw cracks, and he lifts a hand, rubbing it.  He stretches out his legs, pulling them away from Steve’s, who makes a soft noise and burrows a little closer to Tony, hand pressing against his back.  Tony smiles and curls up again, nose brushing Steve’s cotton chest.

 

“Morning,” Steve mumbles, shifting a little so he can hold Tony better, thigh sliding between his to pull them closer.  Tony hums, closing his eyes.

 

Steve’s hand runs lightly over his back before it’s retreating so he can stretch out his arm.  He laughs softly, and Tony tips his head back.  “What?”

 

“Just you,” Steve says, looking over to the window.

 

The sun fills the room in big, golden bursts, illuminating Steve’s face, the blue of his eyes so much brighter, and Tony realizes, this is it, this is their moment.

 

He lifts a hand to Steve’s chest because he wants to feel it happen, fingers flexing.  “Steve,” he whispers.

 

Steve looks back down, faces so close that their noses are almost touching.  Steve’s heartbeat picks up a breath before Tony says, “I want to kiss you.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, though he doesn’t move.

 

“I don’t want to get hurt again.”

 

“I want _you_ ,” Steve says on the heels of that, “I want you, Tony.  I don’t want to keep tiptoeing around this.  I want _us_.”  Tony stares up at him, and then Steve smiles.  “I want to be your boyfriend.”

 

“I guess I can make it work,” Tony says, grinning.

 

“Shut up,” Steve groans, leaning down, and then they’re kissing.

 

It’s soft, just a careful press of mouths until Tony shifts up, closer, and Steve’s hand slides up his back to cradle the back of his head.  They pull away and then come back, and Steve licks into Tony’s mouth, swallowing down Tony’s sigh.  They move together easily, tasting and exploring, and though they’ve kissed before, it’s different now, it’s _theirs_.

 

“Steve,” Tony says, the word falling over his lips.  He rubs their noses together, and he starts to ask if this is okay, but instead just smiles and leans them together again, kissing Steve with a year of waiting.

 

Tony’s breath rushes out to meet him, and Steve’s hand slides down, presses in against the dip in the small of his back, presses him closer.  He wants to hold onto him forever and never let him go, and Tony responds in like, arm curling around him, fingers hooking over his shoulder, and then Steve rolls them, tipping Tony onto his back.  The blankets slide down as they move, and Steve’s other hand finds the curve of Tony’s leg and pulls, fingers snug around his thigh as his knee presses in against Steve’s side.

 

“Tony,” he says when they part, leaning his forehead against Tony’s.  He closes his eyes and just breathes him in, and there’s no pinnacle moment where Steve feels like he needs to run because he’s home.

 

“Hey boyfriend,” Tony says softly, and Steve opens his eyes, leaning back to look at him.

 

“I like that,” Steve says, grinning, and Tony just smiles and reaches up, neck stretching as he asks, and Steve gives, kissing him again, slow and easy and so beautiful.

 

This is what Steve has been looking for, what Tony has been waiting for.

 

Though Steve shifts down closer to him, lines their bodies together, and though they’re boys, and Steve can feel Tony through his sweats, there’s no sexual drive here.  It’s just them, finally coming together, finally understanding one another, and though Steve thinks they could move forward, past something sensual into something sexual, the door opens.

 

“Oh my god!” Leah shrieks, running back out and slamming the door behind her.  Tony starts laughing immediately, and Steve groans, hiding his face in Tony’s neck.  “Breakfast is ready!” she calls through the door before she runs away, and then Steve starts laughing.

 

“She’s going to tell my mom,” he says finally.

 

“Well, I’m going to tell mine, so,” Tony says, and Steve lifts his head, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Really?” Steve says, and then rolls his eyes, “Of course you are.”  He leans down, kissing Tony softly, and Tony just hums, head tilting up to meet him.

 

They get a little lost until Sara’s voice echoes down the hall, “Boys, I’m coming in there!”

 

Steve rolls off of Tony immediately even as Tony wiggles out from under him, making a beeline for the bathroom, grabbing his phone on the way.  He slips inside as Sara opens the door, and Steve laughs when he sees her grin.

 

“Good morning, Steve,” Sara says, leaning against the doorway, “How are you today?”  Tony giggles from inside the bathroom, and Sara almost breaks, but she retains her composure.

 

“I’m pretty great, mom.  I’m, uh—I’m sorry about earlier.”

 

“Earlier?” Sara asks, and Tony opens the bathroom door from the floor, sinking backward through it.

 

“You’re killing me,” he says, looking over at Sara, who finally breaks, laughing.

 

“Are you two finally dating?” Sara asks.  Tony snorts, Steve nods, and Sara shrieks with glee.  “Oh boys!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together, “I’m so happy for you!  However,” she adds, turning serious, and Tony swallows down his laugh, “Please don’t let your sisters walk in on anything.  I trust you to behave over break.  I don’t want to have to separate you, but I will.”

 

“Yes, mom,” Steve and Tony say at the same time.

 

Sara smiles, starts to head out, and then pauses, pointing at Tony.  “Call your mother.”  Tony just lifts the phone, so she leaves them.

 

“Come talk to her with me,” Tony says.

 

“You come here.  I’m not lying on the floor,” Steve says, so Tony rolls over and gets to his feet as Maria answers the call.

 

“Tony!  Say hello to Aunt Rosalie!” Maria says by way of answering.

 

“Ciao, Aunt Rosalie,” Tony says, waving.

 

“Mio bontà, lui è grosso!  **(My goodness, he’s big!)** ” Rosalie exclaims, looking over from where she’s cooking, “Guardate che barba, **(Look at that beard.)** ” she laughs, “Un tale uomo giovane e bello.  **(Such a handsome young man.)** ”

 

“Come sono le ragazze?  **(How are the girls?)** ” Tony asks before he tosses the phone toward Steve, clambering back onto the bed.

 

“Sono fantastici. Essi— **(They’re fantastic.  They—)** oh, hello, Steve,” Maria says warmly when he turns the phone.

 

“Good morning, Maria,” Steve says, smiling, “How are you?”

 

“Jealous that you two are still in bed.  I—” but she breaks off because then Tony leans over, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple before he takes the phone back, grinning wickedly.

 

“Ciao mamma,” he says.

 

“Antonio,” Maria says, trying to remain calm, “I told you to behave yourself.  That includes with Steve.”

 

“I’m allowed to kiss him now,” Tony says triumphantly, and Steve laughs, rolling over and winding an arm around his middle, nuzzling against Tony’s shoulder.

 

“Oh, really?” Maria says, her voice cracking a little.

 

“I just wanted to call to say hello, though.  I should probably get going.  Sara has breakfast ready down—”

 

“Antonio Eduardo Stark!” Maria shrieks, and Tony erupts in laughter, nearly dropping his phone.  “Tu— _tu_ ,” she says threateningly, pointing a finger at him, “Parla, o ti solletico si per l'eternità la prossima volta che ti vedo.  **(Talk, or I’ll tickle you into eternity next time I see you.)** ”

 

“We’re _boyfriends_ , mamma!” Tony sings, and Maria starts flailing about, dancing and giggling.

 

Steve looks up, and then over at Tony.  “It all makes sense now,” he says, and Tony just pokes him in the side so that he squirms away.

 

“Oh boys,” Maria says when she finally calms, “I’m so happy for you.  Oh, _finally_.”

 

“That’s what my mom said,” Steve says, “Was it really that long coming?”

 

“Steve,” Tony and Maria say at the same time, and he sighs, nodding.

 

“I know.”

 

“Va bene, mamma,” Tony says, looking back to her, “I really do have to go.  Breakfast smells amazing.”

 

“Be good, darling,” Maria says, “I’ll call you later.”

 

They hang up, and then Tony tosses his phone behind him and rolls up and over, dropping down on top of Steve and kissing him.  It’s short, just a hard press of their mouths, before he sits back up, grinning.  “That’s awesome,” Tony says, “I can do that whenever I want now.”

 

“Mm, you are more than welcome to,” Steve says before he pulls him back down.

 

They don’t get far, though, because then Tony smacks Steve’s chest, says, “ _Food_ ,” and hops off the bed, heading for the door.  Steve just laughs and follows him, grabbing him in the hallway, arms curling around his waist as he plants a smacking kiss on Tony’s cheek, who whines and pushes him away.  When they part, Tony grins up at him and bumps shoulders before he takes the stairs.  They’re a little bit—a lot—giddy at breakfast, and Emma absolutely _screams_ when Leah makes them reveal the good news.  Riley grins and leans over to fist bump Tony, and Joe just laughs at his family, shaking his head, before he nods in their direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPERHUSBANDS!
> 
> I can’t believe we’re finally here, _oh man_. What do you guys think? I’m so excited, I’m kind of freaking out. I’ve been going out of my mind not posting everything all at once just to get to this point, and I know you guys have been, as well, waiting for it, so I certainly hope it was worth the wait. And I promise you, it is Steve and Tony from here on out. I don’t know what exactly is going to happen, but plenty, I assure you, and it will be just them for the next two and a half years, I believe. I’m still undecided on whether or not I’m going to write about the summer after college, so we’ll see. I’ll honestly probably decide the closer I get to graduation for them.
> 
> I have a lot to talk about! A lot of images to link you to, really. Let’s start with something that I’ve been mentioning here and there but never really putting a lot of time into talking about. So, I actually drew up a timeline for these first almost thirty chapters. I wanted to get everything down, know what all my moves were going to be, make sure I wouldn’t accidentally screw anything up, and force myself into waiting until the appropriate time for Steve and Tony to get together. Erin and I spent many long nights working through this thing, making sure it was accurate, arguing over the smallest things, and just polishing it up, checking to be sure this fic was ready for public consumption. So, before I continue, I’m going to link you to a post on my Tumblr [here](http://sleeponrooftops.tumblr.com/post/88051949434/spoilers-for-a-heartbeat-drives-you-mad-watch), which gives you an overview of this timeline because I think it’s actually pretty badass. Some things didn’t happen, some things did that aren’t on there, and some things you’re probably going _WHAT_ about. I remember one argument in particular was about Steve’s first time. Like I’ve said, I originally wanted his first time to be with Tony, and I had an idea for it. It’s not on the timeline, but our argument revolved around Christmas break their freshman year, toward the end of it, and it we went back and forth for quite some time before we finally came to the conclusion that it should be with someone else. And, as you can see, a lot of things happened quite differently, which just speaks to my ridiculous writing brain, which does whatever it wants whenever it wants. It’s great, we have a hate/love relationship. Another thing I’m noticing as I’m looking at it, Johnny wasn’t even a thing until much later. The second page was written long after the first, and so Johnny had become a thing by then, but it appears he wasn’t planned. I’m really bad at planning. I’ve been writing my books for about eight years now, and they first two have been through four rewrites each—I’m talking scrapped entirely and begin again—and I tried so hard to plan them, and it just never works, and the last rewrite was my first attempt at just letting it happen, and it’s the first time I’ve been head over heels in love with them, so I think it works better when I don’t plan. And then, the sticky notes are just moments that I expanded on, needed to remember various things. I had two other ones for Christmas break their freshman year, but I lost them, unfortunately.
> 
> Alright, I think that’s it for now. I have the next two days off, so I’m hoping to get a lot of writing and reading done, though I am going around to three shelters to look at kittens tomorrow, so we’ll see if I actually get anything done. Oh, and I’ve just finished reading _The Maze Runner_ , which will be hitting theaters in September and which Dylan O’Brien from _Teen Wolf_ will be staring in, and the book was absolutely fantastic, and I’m even more excited to see it now. Now it’s time to read _City of Heavenly Fire_ , though, before _Sinner_ comes out and I get caught up in that, but oh do I want to read the _Dragonlance Chronicles_ again. Have any of my readers read that series? It’s what got me into fantasy, and I owe pretty much my entire writing career to those characters, and I’ve been desperately wanting to read it again. It’s been so long since the last time. Oh my gosh, and I saw _Maleficent_ recently, and my goodness. I actually really, really adored the way that it ended and may have even preferred it to the animated version. It was absolutely perfect, and this is a lot coming from me— _Sleeping Beauty_ is my favorite Disney movie, Aurora is my favorite princess, Philip is my favorite prince, and Maleficent is my favorite villain. Everything about _Sleeping Beauty_ amazes me, and the new movie was beautiful.
> 
> I AM RAMBLING. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	30. Chapter 30

After breakfast, which occurs at ten and is small, Steve and Tony go back upstairs to get ready for the day.  Tony can’t stop _touching_ , though, now that he’s allowed to, and that’s how they end up pressed against the bathroom door, Steve pinning him there in frustration.  “You are driving me _mental_ ,” Steve groans as Tony tips his head back and mouths down his throat.

 

Steve lets himself enjoy it for a few moments before he steps away, hand flattening against Tony’s sternum so he doesn’t follow.  “What?” Tony whines, pouting.

 

“We should wait,” Steve says, “We just started dating this morning, Tony.”  Tony makes a noise like a wounded animal, and Steve laughs.  “At least until we get back to school,” he says, leaning forward to kiss Tony.

 

When they pull apart, Tony nods and says, “Okay.  I’ll be good.”

 

Steve grins.  “That’ll be quite the adventure.”

 

“You’re the one that has to hold out,” Tony says, “I’m ready to go—anytime, anywhere.”  He winks at Steve, and then slides out from under him to shower.  Steve just sighs and goes to find clothes.

 

When they switch, Tony dries off and then dresses, pulling on a pair of dark, tight jeans that scrunch up a little at his ankles, a royal blue thermal that his mom bought because she loves things that bring out his eyes, and then he grabs his toiletries bag and goes into the bathroom.  He styles while Steve finishes up.  “You’re such a queen,” Steve says when he gets out, reaching over, but Tony smacks him away.

 

“No touching yet, daddy’s working,” he says, and Steve laughs.

 

“Nice pants, hipster,” Steve says as he goes into his room.

 

“Listen,” Tony says, poking his head out, but whatever he was going to say falls short when Steve’s towel drops.

 

“Stop staring, Tony,” Steve sighs.

 

“Not a chance.  Look at that ass.  That’s _mine_.”  Tony grins, and then he’s gone.

 

Steve shakes his head, dressing.  He wears jeans, as well, though looser than Tony’s, and then finds a shirt to wear under a grey sweater.  He kicks Tony out of the bathroom after to do his hair, and then they’re heading downstairs.  “Steve, is that you?” Sara calls.

 

“I’ll be right in,” Steve says to Tony, touching his elbow before he turns into the kitchen.

 

Tony heads for the living room, and he’s barely over the threshold when his happy mood sinks.  Nana Rogers is sitting on the sofa, Emma showing off her new tap dance routine.

 

“Tony!” Emma shrieks when she sees him, running over.

 

“Hey, Emmie bean,” he greets, scooping her up, “What’s up, little monster?”

 

“I am _not_ little,” she whines, wiggling.

 

Tony laughs, setting her down.  “I know.  Soon, I’m not going to be able to pick you up.”

 

Emma gasps, and Tony just taps her nose and goes around her to sit on the far end of the sofa.  “I see you’re still around,” nana says.

 

“Tony, can you help me with one of these poses?” Leah asks as she comes in.

 

“I see you are, as well,” Tony murmurs before he stands.

 

Leah unrolls her mat in front of the TV—after Tony’s first visit, she immediately started practicing yoga.  “I can’t hold a shelf in headstand.”

 

“Easy as pie,” Tony says, coming over.

 

“Can you do it first so I can watch?”

 

“Yeah.  Okay if it’s in a handstand?”  Leah nods, so Tony says, “Cool, stretch out with me.  No objections,” he says when she starts to protest.

 

He makes Leah stretch briefly with him, and then he’s getting into down dog, sinking into his heels before he starts walking in.  “Show off,” Steve mutters as he comes in, and Tony laughs softly.  “Hey nana,” Steve says, kissing her on the cheek before he sits next to her.

 

Tony kicks up, fingers spread on Leah’s mat.  “So, you want to go straight first?” she asks as Tony’s toes flex up toward the ceiling.

 

“You could roll in, I guess, but you’ll have better balance if you find it here first, and then— _oh_ , that’s hard in jeans.”  His legs slowly come out, bending as he goes into shelf.

 

“Where should I rest my weight?” Leah asks after a few moments observing.

 

“Hang on,” Tony says, bringing his legs back together, twisting until they slide into full lotus.

 

“Dude,” Steve says.

 

Tony doesn’t respond, instead focusing on the movement of his breaths before he rolls down onto his forearms, brings his head down, hands sliding around to clasp behind his head, and then his legs come out again.  “You tell me,” Tony says, and Leah reaches forward, feeling over his neck and shoulders, looking for what muscles are being worked the most.

 

“Okay,” Leah says, and Tony drops out, fingers threading through his hair when he stands.

 

As he helps Leah with her stand, nana looks to Steve and says, “Your mother told me that you finally ended things with that— _man_.”

 

“Yes, nana,” Steve sighs.

 

“You just need to find a nice, family-driven girl.”

 

“Yes, nana.”

 

Tony lets out an exclamation when Leah holds a shelf by herself.  When she comes out, she jumps up and hugs him.  “Thank you so much,” Leah says when she pulls away.

 

“Do one without me now,” Tony says as he turns and goes to join Steve.

 

Nana leans forward when he sits, but he starts speaking before she can, “Abridged version.  You think I am some kind of parasite, leeching off the gracious acceptance of this family while corrupting your grandchildren with my open-mindedness and comprehension that love is a spectrum.  You think my father should beat me more to try to stamp out my homosexual tendencies and to discipline my other sinful behaviors.  I counter your prehistoric argument by letting you know that I am a well-rounded individual with a genius IQ, and thus curiosity is necessary.  This curiosity does not apply to my sexual orientation because I simply understand that people are attracted to _people_ , not their genders, but what makes them who they are.  Have I forgotten anything?” Tony pauses, and then continues when she tries to speak again, “Oh.  Yes, actually.  If you say a single thing about my mother, I will go into a blind rage and I will not hold myself responsible for anything that I say.  Good?  Good.  I am not trying to be rude, but please don’t speak to me.”

 

Tony sits back, and nana just sits in a shocked silence until Riley starts slow clapping, and then she quickly gets to her feet and stalks out.  Leah immediately joins Riley as Steve turns, a wide, open smile turning up his mouth.  “Tony,” he says, and Tony just shrugs one shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I just—” but Steve cuts him off as he kisses him, hands coming up to curl around his jaw, and Tony sighs, eyes slipping closed as he kisses back, and he can _do this_ , he’s _allowed_ to do this.

 

When they break apart, Leah and Riley are giggling, but Emma is staring at them with a strange expression.  “Yes, Emma?” they say at the same time.

 

“That was gross,” she says, and they both laugh.  She shrugs and says, “I’m really, really glad that you’re together now, though.  That means Tony can come over more, right?”  When Steve nods, she beams and says, “Good.  I like you much, much more than the other people Steve has dated.  You’re actually cool.”  Tony laughs when she turns back to the board game she and Riley are playing, and Steve just shoves him, trying to bite back his grin.

 

When dinner finally comes around, Emma demands Tony help her set the table again, and so he lets himself be pulled off, smiling over his shoulder at Steve.  Emma hands him the plates, and she follows him around the table as he sets them down.  “So, Emma,” he says when they split up the napkins, “Are you sure you’re okay with your brother dating me?”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Emma says, “It’s so awesome.  As long as you don’t kiss all the time in front of me.  Riley and her girlfriend do that, and it’s so icky.  Mommy keeps yelling at Riley, but she won’t stop.  It’s _gross_.  Pinky swear you won’t?”

 

“I promise,” Tony says, holding out his pinky, though he pulls it back before she can take it, “Wait.  Am I allowed to hold Steve’s hand?”

 

“Yeah, that’s fine, I don’t care,” she says, so Tony nods, locking pinkies with Emma.

 

Steve, Leah, and Riley start filtering in with the food, so Tony goes to help while Emma finishes up the table.  When they’ve all sat down and said grace at nana’s request, they dig in, dishes passing around until they’re all ready to tuck in, and Steve turns to Tony.  “Did you take your meds?” he asks quietly.

 

“Uh,” Tony says, trying to think back, “I don’t—no, I didn’t.  Excuse me,” he says aloud to the table.

 

“Hey,” Steve says when he stands, “Take them with water, please.  You’ve been breathing weird.”

 

“Yes, mother hen,” he says, and Steve just rolls his eyes and turns back to the table.

 

“Is everything okay?” Sara asks.

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, nodding, “He just forgot his medication.”

 

“For his stereotypical depression?” nana mutters.

 

“Mom,” Joe begins, but Steve is the one to continue.

 

“Actually, _nana_ ,” Steve says angrily, and everyone looks over, surprised by his tone, “They’re for a heart condition diagnosed at birth, but don’t worry, I won’t tell him how long you struggled with depression.”

 

“Steven,” Sara says.

 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, looking down at his plate.

 

“No,” nana says, shaking her head, “It’s fine.”  Steve looks up, shocked.  “I was out of line,” nana admits, “It was wrong of me to assume that.  I apologize, Steven.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve says, blinking, “That means a lot.”

 

“Don’t take that as acceptance of your relationship,” she says, and Steve just sighs.

 

Tony comes back a few moments later, dropping into his seat and upending his pills onto the table by his plate.  “Why the long face, shoulders?” he says, looking over at Steve, “What’d I miss?”

 

“Nothing,” Steve says, shaking his head, “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“I will, but okay,” Tony says, “And hey, observing my breathing now?  You sound like my mom.”

 

He starts to pick up both of the diuretics, but Steve gives him a look, so he makes a face and takes one at a time.  “It was just a little irregular earlier,” Steve says.

 

Tony nods.  “I’m well aware,” he says, and then, lowering his voice, “It was a minor arrhythmia attack, I’m fine.”

 

“Tony.”

 

“I said I was fine.  Like, seriously minor.  Only a couple minutes.”  Steve sighs, but Tony just lifts his eyebrows and finishes off his pills.  “Stop it,” he says, giving Steve a light push, “Eat, or I’ll steal your food.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, so Tony grins at him and picks up his fork.  Dinner goes by fairly smoothly, full of laughter and chatter.  Maria calls just after dessert, as she’s getting ready for bed, and so Tony only talks with her briefly before he’s returning to the dining room.  When that’s done, Steve and Tony help clean up before they bugger off upstairs.

 

“Do you want to go out with your parents tonight?” Tony asks as he goes over to Steve’s bed, flopping down.

 

“Not even a little,” Steve says, stretching, “Game?”

 

“Oh, fuck yeah.  Not _Left 4 Dead_ , that shit’s too scary.”

 

“I got this new game, _Outlast_ , if you wanna try it,” Steve says.

 

“What is it?” Tony asks.

 

Steve just grins.  “I’ve only played it a couple times, but I think you should just give it a try.”

 

“I don’t trust you,” Tony says, narrowing his eyes, and Steve laughs, going to find it.

 

“You shouldn’t,” he says, and Tony groans.

 

They set up, throwing all of Steve’s pillows on the floor at the foot of his bed so they can rest against them before Steve shuts the lights, and then they start.  It’s a one person game, so they’re going to switch off, but Steve lets Tony start, who huddles close to him, reading through the credits with a frown.  When it finally begins, Tony pokes around for a bit, and then something starts chasing him, and he screams, running away.

 

“What the fuck!” he yells, climbing through the dilapidated building, “Is the entire purpose of this game to run away?  That is— _oh my god_!”

 

He gets through about twenty minutes before he throws the controller at Steve, who quickly picks up running, laughing when Tony crawls over and into his lap, hunkering down to watch.  They switch off, though Tony really only gets about ten minutes each time before he’s whining, and, when he is playing, Steve can’t help but spook him at every turn.

 

Eventually, Sara comes in to let them know they’re heading out, laughing when she finds Tony cowering and Steve cackling.  “Pay attention,” she says, and Steve pauses the game, “I’m trusting you two to be good while we’re gone.  Same as last year, we’ll be home around two, so no shenanigans too close to that time, you hear?  _Behave_.”

 

“Hey, he’s the one trying to put me in an early grave,” Tony mumbles when she points at him.

 

“That may be so, but you’re a sneaky little rat,” Sara says, and Tony gapes at her as Steve laughs.

 

“Two o’clock.  Have fun, boys.”

 

“Bye!” they both call before she heads out.

 

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Steve asks when she’s gone.

 

“Fucking _yes_ , okay, I don’t like this game even though it’s really cool.  Dude!  Let’s watch a horror.”

 

“You’re kind of demented.  You know that, right?” Steve says, and Tony just grins.  Tony goes to grab his laptop while Steve cleans up, and, by the time he’s found something to steal, Steve is reaching for his laptop to hook it up to the TV.  “What’re we watching?” he asks as he hits play.

 

“ _The Rite_.  It’s got Anthony Hopkins, and it looks creepy as fuck.”

 

“Hey, snacks?”

 

“I think I’m still full from dinner.  Maybe later.  I’ll come with, though.”

 

They head downstairs, stocking up on popcorn, chex mix, and water.  After Steve’s dropped the popcorn into the microwave, he turns to Tony and says, “So, Italian.”

 

“E 'la lingua _più_ bella, **(It is the _most_ beautiful language.)** ” he says, “What about it?”

 

“This morning—you and your mom were speaking it like that’s what you always do.  I’ve never heard you speak it outside of talking about class from last year.”

 

Tony shrugs, and though he has no problem admitting it, he knows Steve’s going to make a face when he says, “English isn’t my first language.”

 

“What?” Steve says, staring at him.

 

“I grew up speaking Italian,” Tony says, shrugging again, “My mom called it a dual language upbringing, though, because I could also speak English, though not as fluently, not until my father required it the closer I got to attending school.  He refused to speak to me in it, and still does, though I attribute that flaw to the fact that I was a complete drama queen when it came to speaking English.  I used to hate it,” Tony recalls, grinning, “I don’t know, it’s—it’s been coming back.  I don’t really give a shit what he thinks anymore.  I’m done playing by his rules, and so we’ve been bringing it back.  Hopefully, we’ll go to Italy again this summer.  We haven’t been together in ages.”

 

“Wow,” Steve says, impressed, “You are on just—a whole other intellectual level than me sometimes.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Tony says, flashing him a smile before he retrieves the popcorn, “You are one of the most intellectually stimulating person I have ever met.  You are constantly make me rethink everything, and it’s pretty amazing.”  Steve tries to speak and fails, instead turning to get a bowl to hide his ridiculous smile.

 

When they finish up, they return to Steve’s room and get comfortable.  Tony curls close, head resting against Steve’s shoulder, occasionally stealing popcorn, and Steve winds an arm around him.  “Blankets,” he murmurs when they’re done with the popcorn, and Tony grabs them with his toes, pulling them up.

 

Eventually, Tony straightens, twisting his head until his neck cracks, and Steve shifts until he’s lying down more so that he’ll be comfortable.  He curls closer this time, one of his legs drifting over to settle between Steve’s, his hand slipping under his shirt to rest against his stomach, and Steve has to work to keep his breaths even.  Tony’s so warm next to him, he just wants to map out his skin with his mouth, _taste him_ , and maybe he’s feeling reminiscent of last year, but his cock starts to harden as he thinks about having Tony beneath him, of the noises he’d make.

 

Steve wants to wait, though.  He was the one that made that decision, and he feels like he should stick by it.  “Oh balls,” Tony mutters, pressing against Steve, “I hate scary movies.”

 

“Liar,” Steve says, and Tony leans up, biting his shoulder in response.  “Don’t be a child,” Steve says, swatting him away.  Tony shifts against him, hand rubbing over his stomach and curling around his side, and Steve bites back a groan.  And then, without warning, Tony whines again, leg shifting higher as he tries to hide, and then he’s laughing.

 

“Okay,” he says, uncurling a little, “A little excited by Anthony Hopkins, Steven?”

 

“Fuck off,” Steve mutters, and Tony just presses his grin into Steve’s chest, kissing lightly.

 

They make it through the whole movie.  Steve’s attention is actually held, and his dick has calmed down a little when the credits finally roll until Tony straightens away from him, back curving as he stretches, head tipping back, baring his throat, and Steve gives up.

 

“Fuck this,” he groans, reaching for Tony, who pulls his head up, quirking an eyebrow as Steve tries to tug him over.

 

“Can I help you?” he says.

 

“I don’t wanna fucking wait,” Steve says, and Tony grins, all teeth.

 

Tony moves like a dancer, leg swinging around until he’s straddling Steve, rolling his hips down into his lap, and Steve groans, head tipping back as Tony grinds into him, body swaying as his knees pin in against Steve’s thighs.  “Can’t wait for what?” Tony says, hands coming up to curve around Steve’s shoulders, running down his arms until he skips over to the hem of his shirt, circling his waist.

 

“Tony,” Steve whines, looking up at him.

 

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you,” Tony says as he starts to lift, nails scraping lightly over his stomach.

 

Steve sighs, hands sliding up Tony’s thighs to curl around his hips, rolling up into him.  “Tony.”

 

“Such a shame,” Tony says, sitting back on his heels, stilling.

 

“You asshole,” Steve mutters, and then he flips them, pressing Tony into the mattress.  “I want to fuck you,” Steve says, hovering over him as he rocks his hips down, “I want to be inside you, Tony.”

 

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Tony says, and then he’s lifting up a leg, squirming it in between them so he can push Steve back.  When Steve straightens away, Tony sits and reaches for the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head.  Steve grins when his torso is revealed, long and muscled and _his_.

 

He starts to lean back down, but Tony lifts his leg up again, foot pressing against his chest, and he sighs, one hand going back to bunch in his shirt and pull.  Tony slips out from under him, padding over to his backpack as Steve tosses his shirt over the edge of the bed, and then tips over onto his back, hips lifting up off the bed as he slides his sweats down.

 

Tony comes back over holding a small bottle of lube.  “I have—” Steve begins.

 

“Too bad, it’s my favorite,” Tony says, and Steve just shrugs.  Tony reaches for the waist of his sweats, and then sighs.  “I’m just saying,” he says, and then he pushes them down.

 

“Okay,” Steve says, gaze darting to his cock because apparently Tony likes to go commando.

 

“Wasn’t feeling the boxer situation tonight,” Tony says, quirking an eyebrow, “Not that I was expecting anything.  I honestly thought you’d hold out, but— _oh_ ,” he breaks off when Steve shucks off his boxer briefs, “Hey there.”

 

Tony tosses the lube onto the nightstand and climbs back onto the bed, and Steve starts to reach for him when Tony crawls down between his legs.  “Tony—”

 

“Shut up, I have been wanting to do this for far too long,” he says before he presses a soft kiss to Steve’s hip, flashes him a smile, and then wraps his lips around Steve’s cock, taking him in until the head nudges at his throat, and Steve groans loudly, fingers fisting in the sheets.  Tony lets him sit heavy on his tongue, memorizes the taste of him as he sucks slowly, just getting acquainted before he’s pulling off again, and then he crawls back up, sliding them together as he kisses Steve.

 

They kiss until they’re panting, and then Tony pulls back, leaning their foreheads together.  “I assume you top,” he murmurs, and Steve nods.  “Well, good,” he continues, slapping Steve’s chest before he rolls off of him, “Because I refuse to.”

 

“Of course, because that would be too much work,” Steve quips, so Tony pinches him.

 

In retaliation, Steve yanks him back over, pulling one of his legs up as he slots them together, naked cocks rubbing against one another, and Tony groans, eyes rolling into the back of his head.  “That’s what I thought,” Steve says, and Tony starts laughing.

 

“This is on a whole other plane of awesomeness right now, I hope you realize that,” Tony says, opening his eyes, and Steve can’t help but smile.

 

He kisses him slowly before he reaches over to his nightstand, plucking up the lube and opening the top drawer to get a condom.  He tosses the foil over next to Tony and then uncaps the lube, whistling.  “Mint, really?” he asks.

 

“Just wait.  It’s like an out of body experience for me,” Tony says, watching Steve rub the lube between his fingers, warming it.  “Jesus, I fucking love your hands.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve says, grinning up at him as he lets his hand drift down, knuckles brushing over Tony’s balls before he’s rubbing a finger over his entrance, and Tony sighs, twitching down toward him.

 

“Come on, don’t tease,” Tony says, trying to push down toward him, but Steve wraps his other hand around his hip and holds him down.  He swipes a thumb over his hipbone, and Tony looks down at him, seeing it there.  “Hey,” he says, pushing up onto his elbows, “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, smiling, and it’s fond, “Just—just a little nervous, I guess.”

 

“Steve,” Tony says, returning the smile, “I want this, I want you, I want _us_ , I want it all, and I know, with every atom of my being, that this will be amazing.”

 

“Every atom, huh?”

 

Tony starts to respond, but then Steve slides the first finger in, and he gasps, bowing off the bed.  They’re doing this, they’re actually _doing this_ , and it both terrifies and thrills Steve until he’s trembling a little.

 

He leans down, kissing down Tony’s front as he rubs the pad of his second finger along the first, and he takes the head of Tony’s cock in his mouth as he slides the second in, groaning when Tony makes a high, beautiful sound.  He takes him in his mouth slowly as he stretches him until Tony’s swearing at him, foot smacking his thigh, and then he pulls back, shifting so his wrist twists, and he pushes deeper, grinning when Tony’s toes curl against his thigh, back curving.  Steve slides his fingers out of his ass languidly, taking his time until Tony is whining again, and then he reaches for the foil packet, ripping it open.

 

“Steve,” Tony pants, looking down at him with dark eyes.

 

“Ready?” Steve asks as he strokes himself.  Tony nods eagerly, knees coming up, and Steve shifts closer, hand curling around the base of his dick as he guides it to Tony’s ass, presses lightly until Tony’s breaths are hitching up, and he can see him visibly trying to stay put, so he carefully nudges inside, groaning as he’s enveloped in tight heat, sinking in gently until his hips are flush with Tony’s ass, and then he leans down, pressing them together as Tony adjusts.

 

“Fucking hell, Steve,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his ear.

 

“What?” Steve says, worried.

 

He lifts away as Tony shakes his head, this incredible beam on his face.  “Just you,” he says, and Steve smiles.

 

“Yeah?” he says, rolling his hips, and Tony gasps, shoulders pushing down against the bed.  His foot slides up and taps lightly against Steve’s side until he hooks an arm under his knee, and Tony moans lowly at the angle that provides.

 

“Steve, _god_ —fuck me, _please_.”

 

Steve rolls out and then snaps his hips in, and Tony makes this glorious noise, hand flapping against the bed before it darts up, curling around Steve’s shoulder, nails digging in.  He wants to hear it again, wants to pull every noise possible from him, and so he sets a slow, hard rhythm, cock sliding in and out of Tony’s ass until Tony’s a trembling mess beneath him, spewing lines of colorful profanity that make Steve blush and press closer to him, press deeper until Tony’s whining.

 

His hand slides up from Steve’s shoulder to fist in the back of his hair, and he pushes him down so he can kiss Steve, bruising his mouth as Steve leans into him, and then Tony’s leg is coming away from his elbow, stretching high before it curls around Steve’s shoulder, his other leg pulling up, knee reaching his ribs as his toes slide over the inside of Steve’s elbow.

 

Steve moans, pulling away to scrape his teeth over Tony’s bottom lip before he mouths down his jaw to his neck, leaving a trail of wet, hot kisses.  He can feel the muscles in Tony’s leg stretched taut over his shoulder, and he snaps forward hard enough that Tony hits the mattress, grinning when Steve swears.

 

Tony doesn’t know if he’s ever been fucked like this, hard and slow, _purposeful_ even.  Steve is trying to make this last, trying to explore every nook and cranny of Tony that he might find, and he welcomes him in openly, pulling him into his body.  Even the position feels different—though he’s had his legs like this plenty of times, he feels supported with Steve, feels like he could let go and he’d still be held here easily, and that may make his muscles flutter a little more, hold on a little tighter.

 

Though it’s good, it’s not what Tony wants, and he shifts up, hips rolling up to meet Steve’s until Steve is sliding a knee up, gaining more leverage, and his cock sinks deeper this time, slides over Tony’s prostate, and he lets out a high whine, head tipping back, giving Steve better access to his neck.

 

He mouths down and around to the hollow at the base of his throat, sucking the skin there between his teeth and marking him.  Tony moans softly—he wants to feel Steve all over him, wants to bump into something later and find it hurts.  His nails scrape over Steve’s scalp in response, and Steve releases the flushed skin, kissing down to his collarbone, over until he reaches the front of his shoulder, and then he bites again.  Tony’s other hand comes up and dances over Steve’s back until, without warning, he picks up his rhythm, hips fucking in a little quicker, and he scratches without meaning to, nails dragging lines over Steve’s back.  Steve gasps, and Tony does it again in the opposite direction, grinning loosely when Steve moans, mouth latching onto his collarbone.

 

“Steve,” he groans when his other knee comes up, as well, and then they’re folded together, Steve fucking him into the bed until Tony can feel his whole body wired tight, every muscle fluttering and clenching until he feels like he might implode.  “Steve, fuck,” he gasps when Steve releases his collarbone and then bruises his mouth, kissing him hard and fast.

 

“Tony,” he says when he pulls away, pressing their foreheads together.

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony groans, meeting him thrust for thrust as Steve starts to pick up again, something brutal and beautiful, “ _Shit_ , Steve, I’m—fuck, I’m close.”

 

Warmth floods through him as his breaths hitch higher, a scream building in his chest that he starts to swallow down until Steve growls, “Don’t you hide from me.”

 

Tony moans, and then he’s putting his body to work, legs tightening around Steve as his nails scrape _hard_ over the back of his head and his back, drawing a low, wrecked moan from Steve, who presses so close, their heat is trapped between them, sharing breaths as they gasp in each other’s air.

 

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve whines, his thrusts melting into something a little bit erratic as he chases the heat pooling in his belly, and then he’s slamming in and stilling, cock aching in Tony’s ass before he pulls out as little as possible before sinking back in, keeping him filled, the head of his cock rubbing over his prostate on every pass until the scream is bubbling up.

 

Tony dissolves, “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , Steve, I’m gonna—shit, I’m gonna come, I’m so fucking close, _Steve_ , hell, I’m gonna— _Steve_.”

 

Steve fucks into him, panting as he feels warmth lick up his spine, and then there’s a low tug in his belly, and he comes, moan pitching up into a keen as he buries his face in Tony’s neck, shaking as Tony’s inner walls flutter spasmodically around him, and, though his hips slow, he rolls in hard until Tony’s coming undone, voice lilting up into a scream as he comes untouched, cock throbbing between them.

 

They stay together, Tony clinging to him even though his legs are absolutely _aching_ , and then, finally, Steve shifts, cock sliding out of his ass, and Tony whines, clenching around nothing.  Steve leans up, kissing him softly before he carefully brings Tony’s legs down, setting them back on the bed.  “Stay here,” he whispers, kissing Tony again before he disappears, and usually Tony would demand he take care of himself, but he’s so blissed out, he doesn’t care that Steve returns with a damp washcloth and cleans off his stomach.  He goes back in the bathroom, Tony hears the water run, and then he’s returning, nudging at Tony until he moves over to the wall.  Steve gets into bed next to him, pulling the blankets up over them as Tony turns, smiling widely.  “Yeah?” Steve asks.

 

“Fuck yes, that was incredible,” Tony says, “For you, too?”

 

Steve nods, grinning.  “Amazing,” he says, “I’m so glad we’re finally doing this.”

 

“Me too,” Tony says, and he means to say more, but then he’s yawning, and Steve laughs softly, scooting over until he can pull Tony close to him, who pushes at his shoulder until Steve tips over onto his back, and then he settles against him, head resting on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths.

 

“We should probably put on clothes so my sisters don’t walk in on us naked in bed,” Steve says.

 

“Too tired,” Tony mumbles, kissing Steve’s chest before he closes his eyes, “Blankets.”

 

“They’re already on,” Steve says.

 

“I know that,” Tony says, and Steve laughs, leaning down to kiss his hair before he sinks into his bed, and he falls asleep still smiling, warmth bursting in his chest and expanding outward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be short because I’m literally on my way out the door to work, but I wanted, quickly, to introduce you guys to my new kittens, [Lily and Gracie](http://sleeponrooftops.tumblr.com/tagged/lily-and-gracie). I’ve tagged their names to their tag on my Tumblr, which has photos and videos of them right now. I’m so in love with them, and it’s been a year since I last had a cat, so I’m very excited to be making this journey again. Like I said, though, I’m on my way to work, I have to leave in two minutes, so I hope you enjoyed, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is an art note! This doesn’t really belong in any particular chapter, so I’ll just leave it posted here, but Erin did this absolutely beautiful water color of [Steve and Tony cuddling](http://undertheblu.tumblr.com/image/88125337158), and I feel like it’s especially relevant now that they’re together, :) Enjoy!

The next morning, Steve wakes first, looking around blearily to find what pulled him out of slumber.  The knock comes again, and Steve clears his throat before calling, “Come in!”  He sits, rubbing his eyes as he looks over.  Tony is on his front, bare shoulders peeking out from under the blankets.

 

“Morning,” Sara says as she comes in, “I see you had fun last night.”

 

“ _Mom_ ,” Steve groans.

 

Sara shrugs.  “As long as you used protection.  I’m not an idiot, Steve, I knew it was only a matter of time.  Are you happy?”  Steve looks over at Tony again, at his soft, sleeping face, and he smiles.  He can’t remember the last time he felt this good, this sure about something.  When he looks back to Sara, she laughs.  “You’re smitten,” she teases, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know I was going out with the girls.  Your dad will be home, but he isn’t feeling well, so check up on him before you go out anywhere.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, “Thank you.”

“Be good,” she says before she leaves.

 

Steve starts to reach over to wake Tony, but it’s only nine, and so he slides back down and lets Tony’s magnetism pull him over until he’s pressing close to him.

 

——

 

After they wake up late and bum around for a while—Steve can’t believe this is real, that he can coax Tony awake with soft, warm kisses, that Tony will arch toward him, sleepy and pliant, and ask for Steve to fill him.

 

They eat a lame lunch, do yoga, and then watch some TV before an idea occurs to Steve, and he rolls over toward Tony, who’s tapping away on his laptop.  “Let’s go on a date,” he says.

 

Tony glances over at him.  “What did you have in mind?”

 

“I dunno.  _Not_ the movies.”

 

“I don’t have the attention span anyway.  Dinner?”

 

“Can I pick somewhere?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t care.  Hey, you ever been to a planetarium?”

 

“I haven’t.”

 

“Cool.  What else?”

 

“Else?” Steve echoes.  With Bucky, it was always dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, a movie, and home to have sex and snuggle.

 

“Yeah, the night is young.  How about—”

 

“I want to go to a club.”

 

“Do you trust me?” Tony asks, grinning.

 

“Sometimes,” Steve says.

 

Tony laughs, “Fair enough.  I’m gonna shower before we go.”  He passes over his laptop, leans over to kiss Steve, and then disappears into the bathroom.

 

Steve looks for somewhere to eat, and then he goes to get ready.  When they’re in the car, they briefly argue about money until Tony finally agrees to go Dutch, and then they’re off.

 

They end up at a Japanese hibachi grill, and it is so different from any date Steve has ever been on, and he loves it.  Tony demands Steve try sushi, which he makes faces at until he actually tries it, and Tony cheers when he nods.  He accidentally gets Tony talking about his physics class, and he goes off on a wild rant about the American school system and how much better his classes were in France.  Steve finds he can actually argue some of his points, and they fall into a heated debate that ends only when their food is ready.

 

Steve decides to test the waters a little, and he casually says, “So, you’re kind of a pansy about horror,” and Tony goes off again.  They talk about the subgenres of horror for a while until they somehow drift off into telling scary stories from their childhood, and then they’re just telling stories.

 

It’s nonstop, just going back and forth, and, when they eventually make their way back to the car, it’s late.  “Alright, time to digest,” Tony says before he gives Steve directions to the planetarium.

 

Steve is mesmerized when they get there.  He thinks Tony is going to ramble on about what they’re seeing, but he just sits back and remains quiet.  Steve reaches for his hand, and Tony smiles, lifting their laced hands to kiss Steve’s knuckles.  They stay until Tony would usually get bored, but he looks so peaceful, just staring up at the sky, and so they stay a while longer.

 

Eventually, when they leave, Tony stretches, grinning.  “We’re gonna boogie,” he says, and Steve erupts with laughter.

 

Back in the car, Steve calls Sara to let her know they’ll be home late while Tony calls _someone_ —he’s got a mischievous shine in his blue eyes, so Steve doesn’t ask who.  When they arrive at the club, however, the bouncer waves as Tony approaches, and they’re let in immediately.  Steve starts to ask, and then just shakes his head—he’s Tony _Stark_ , and his name carries him everywhere.

 

It’s not the same as when they party at school, and Steve can’t quite figure out what’s different at first until they split up to get drinks after a while of dancing, Tony heading for the bar while Steve finds somewhere they can sit for a bit.  Steve pointedly ignores the stares he’s getting until someone actually drops down in the seat opposite him, and says, “Hey blondie, I—”

 

“Oi, fuck off!” Tony says, giving the chair a kick.

 

He hands over Steve’s drink, who takes it gratefully, and the man raises an eyebrow, looking up at Tony.  “Excuse you,” he says, “ _I_ was talking to him.”

 

“Excuse _you_ ,” Tony snaps right back, “He’s my boyfriend.”

 

“Oh, is he?” the man says, standing.

 

Tony takes a careful sip of his drink, puts it down, and Steve starts to complain—he doesn’t want to do this right now, not here—but Tony surprises him.  “Yes.  He is,” he says quietly, “And if you’d like to hit on him, you can try, but I’ll be going home with him tonight.”

 

Tony cocks his head to the side, the man huffs and leaves, and then he drags his chair over so he’s closer to Steve and grins.  “You’re—something else,” Steve says, and Tony just laughs.  And, just like that, Steve starts to understand.

 

Tony only dances with him, torturously close, enough that Steve wants to find somewhere private and vent out some of this frustration, though he doesn’t, and it just makes it better, being able to slide his hands over Tony’s body because he can now, and he doesn’t have to worry about what repercussions might come up later.  Tony lets loose, finally able to do whatever he wants with Steve, and they move like they’re in love.

 

——

 

Sunday comes and goes.  Steve and Tony wake up late, have a late lunch, and then spend the day with the girls.  They all commandeer Tony for different things, and Steve just sits back and laughs as Tony is pulled in every which direction.  Before dinner, he disappears for an hour to talk to Maria, and, when Steve goes to collect him, he finds him in the bathroom, Maria on facetime, sitting by the window of her bathroom while she smokes.  “She’s hiding from her sister,” Tony says when Steve opens the door, “Apparently, she’s trying to bully her into moving to Italy.  When are you going home?” he adds to Maria.

 

“Wednesday.  Booked an early flight because she’s making me mental.  Tuesday for you?”

“Yeah.  You should come visit me when you get back, we can go to lunch.”

 

“Only if I’m allowed to invite your friends.  I don’t know Betty and Bruce well enough yet.”

 

“Mamma, you stole Betty’s number out of my phone, and you two gossip like old queens all the time,” Tony says, shaking his head, “You know them plenty, but okay.  You’re coming, too,” he adds, reaching for Steve, who goes, letting Tony pull him over.  He tips his head up, and though Maria’s still on the phone, he gives him a quick kiss.

 

“Oh, that just makes me so happy,” Maria sighs.  Both of them smile as they look back over at her, and then Maria snubs out her cigarette and says, “Stop keeping Sara waiting.  I should call your father anyway.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes, so Maria makes a face at him.  “How attractive, mamma.”

 

“Shut up, I gave birth to you, I’m always attractive.”  Tony snorts, and Maria laughs.  “Yeah, cos that was so much better.  Give your mother my love, Steve—hugs and kisses, the whole routine.  E tu.  **(And you.)** ”

 

“Non _e tu_ me, **(Don’t _and you_ me.)** ,” Tony says, and Maria starts laughing.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Steve says, and then louder so Maria can hear, “It was nice seeing you, Maria.”

 

“You too, dear,” Maria says with a smile before Steve goes back into his room.

 

“Dovrei andare, troppo, **(I should go, too.)** ” Tony says, “Ci sentiamo più tardi?  **(I’ll talk to you later?)** ”

 

“Certo, cara. Siate buoni.  **(Of course, darling.  Be good.)** ”

 

“Sempre, _madre_.  **(Always, _mother_.)** ”

 

“Ascoltare, tu, **(Listen, you.)** ” Maria says, and Tony smiles, “Ti amo, tesoro. Avere una buona notte.  **(I love you, sweetheart.  Have a good night.)** ”

 

“Ti amo, troppo, mamma, **(I love you, too, mom.)** ” Tony says before they hang up, and then he goes to find Steve and head downstairs for dinner.

 

After, Leah and Riley reveal that they’ve put together a family game night, and so everyone settles in the living room as they set up the first of their games.  It turns out to be a fantastic night, as well as something Tony’s never experienced before.  When game night comes to an end with Emma’s bedtime, Steve and Tony retreat upstairs to watch a movie, though it takes them a while to actually decide on one.  In the end, they start a new TV show, which keeps them up most of the night.

 

Monday rolls around, and, with it, an empty house.  When Tony wakes, it’s early still, only about ten, but they fell asleep relatively early last night, so he stretches and then pushes upright, cracking his back before he scoots over and lays a soft kiss on Steve’s cotton shoulder.  “Steve,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose against his shoulder, “Steve.”

 

“I’m sleeping,” Steve mumbles.

 

“No, you’re not, wake up,” Tony says, leaving a trail of kisses along his front and up to his jaw, “Come on, I wanna go out today.”

 

“Where?” Steve says, and then sighs when Tony climbs on top of him, knees resting against his ribs as he flattens down, nose brushing Steve’s jaw.

 

“Lunch,” Tony says, “And somewhere else that you’ll decide, but I’d kind of like tea at some point today, so there’s that.  Then maybe for a walk?”

 

“I think it was supposed to rain today,” Steve says, looking over at Tony blearily.

 

“Then we’ll walk inside,” Tony says, shrugging, “Come on, it’s our last day home from school.”

 

“I don’t know if all parties are in accordance with your wishes,” Steve says, not discreetly shifting, and Tony rolls his eyes.

 

“Listen, just because I’m hard doesn’t mean I want sex,” Tony says, sitting up, and Steve laughs when he rolls his hips down into Steve’s.

 

“Do you?”

 

“Yes,” Tony says, and Steve laughs louder.

 

“Gimme a second to wake up,” he says, starting to reach for Tony, but Tony brightens, slipping away.  “Tony,” he sighs as he kneels next to him, tugging down his pants, “I’m tired.”

 

“Hello tired, I’m horny,” Tony mumbles, and Steve groans, lifting a hand to scrub over his face.

 

“Did you seriously just make a horrible dad joke?”

 

“Probably.  My mom says my sense of humor is lacking,” Tony says before he reaches for Steve’s boxer briefs, tugging those down, too, and he sighs when his cock comes out, just waiting for him.

 

“Your sense of humor is just bizarre.  You— _oh_ ,” he breaks off when Tony takes his dick in his mouth, tongue coming around to lick up the underside before he sucks lightly.  “Jesus, Tony,” he groans, tipping his head back as Tony takes him farther in.  He slides a hand down to card through his hair, petting lightly, just enjoying the feeling of Tony’s warm, wicked mouth, and he’s reminded, yet again, how wrong he was not to let this happen sooner.  At the same time, though, he’s aware of why it needed to happen now, that they needed to grow up and learn to understand one another before they could be together.

 

“You’re thinking too much,” Tony mutters, and Steve opens his eyes, looking down at him, smiling when he sees him resting against his thigh, his mouth swollen and wet.

 

“Come here,” Steve murmurs, reaching out a hand.  Tony takes it, letting Steve pull him up until they’re kissing, Steve holding him there, and it’s slow—easy.  When they pull apart, Steve smiles again, thumb coming out to swipe over his bottom lip.  “I was just thinking about how lucky I am,” he says, and Tony gives him his best smile, all teeth, his nose scrunched up and his eyes closed, and Steve laughs fondly, arms circling Tony and pulling him back down.  They kiss until Steve feels his blood stirring, and then he shifts his leg up, knee bending until he can unbalance Tony and roll them over, hovering above him.  He pulls away slowly, lingering against his mouth until Tony’s grinning as Steve straightens, fingers hooking in the hem of his pants.  “Do you ever wear underwear?” he asks when he doesn’t feel the material of his boxer briefs underneath.

 

“Only when I remember it’s a thing people do,” Tony says, and Steve laughs before he leans back, pulling Tony’s pants off.  When they’re gone, he starts to reach over toward his nightstand, but Tony stops him, reaching a hand up curl around his arm.  “How do you feel about maybe not?” he asks, and Steve leans back, looking down at him.

 

“Are you clean?” he asks, and Tony rolls his eyes.

 

“I’ve never actually had an issue with that, thank you very much,” he says, “But yes, I am.  I got tested again back in—uh, October, I think, that weekend I went out to lunch with my mom.”

 

“It’s almost December,” Steve says.

 

“And?”

 

“And you really haven’t slept with anyone since then?”

 

“No.”

 

“ _Really_?”

 

“You have such little faith in me,” Tony says, though he’s grinning.  He reaches over for the nightstand, yanking open the top drawer, but then Steve’s stopping him.

 

“I have faith in you,” he says, waiting for Tony to look up at him before he continues, “I just wanted to make sure.”

 

“Real talk time,” Tony says, leaning back over and pushing off the bed so he can sit.  He crosses his legs, and Steve does the same, facing him.  “The only people I have slept with since we got back are Johnny, Thor, Betty, and Bruce, and there wasn’t actually any penetration with the super couple.  In France, I slept with—two guys, I think.  I spent most of the time at school or with my mom.  I—” he breaks off, sighing.  He reaches up a hand, rubbing it over the back of his neck before he shrugs and continues, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

Steve just stares at him for a few seconds before his lips curl up in a smile, and Tony ducks his eyes.  “Hey,” Steve says, reaching for his other hand and tangling their fingers together, “Thank you for being honest with me.”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Tony says, peering up at him, “Your turn.”

 

“I have only slept with Bucky this semester.”

 

“No one at any of those parties?”

 

“No, I was kind of, uh—I may have been trying to figure out how to kick things off with us.”

 

“Really?  Dude, we suck.  We need to fucking communicate.”  Tony slaps Steve’s chest, who laughs, and then he twists over to the side, opening the top drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube.  When he comes back, he says, “So.  No condom?”

 

Steve shakes his head, his smile widening.  “No,” he says, “No condom.”

 

“Way cool,” Tony says before his legs unfold, and Steve watches them stretch, curling around him as Tony lowers back onto his elbows, quirking an eyebrow.  “You gonna put your fingers in my ass, or what?” he says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

“We’re going to work on your crude language,” Steve says, plucking the lube out of his hand and giving Tony’s shoulder a shove so he topples backward.

 

Steve circles a hand around Tony’s left knee, pushing up, and he means only to let it bend, but Tony brings it in farther, foot settling against Steve’s shoulder, toes flexing against the muscle, and Steve grins as he opens the lube and slicks his fingers.  He stretches him slowly, resisting when Tony’s foot pushes against his shoulder as his breaths pitch up into high moans, and then, when Tony’s panting and trembling lightly, he curls a hand around his dick, stroking himself slowly, lube warm on his fingers until his breaths are a little hard and Tony’s whining, kicking him instead of just pushing.

 

Steve tries to bite his toes, but Tony takes his foot back, glaring down at him through his grin.  “Don’t you dare, I’m ticklish,” he says, and Steve has to use all of his willpower not to ditch sex to see just where he’s ticklish.  Tony makes it a little easy because he pushes off against the bed, shifting down toward Steve, who groans and wraps a hand around his hip, holding him down.

 

“Flip over,” he says, and Tony stares down at him.

 

“Oh fuck,” he moans finally, pulling his left leg in so he can roll over, taking a pillow to slide beneath him, “Fuck, Steve, whenever you want to get all demanding, you fucking do so because— _shit_ ,” he groans when he feels the head of Steve’s cock pushing lightly at his entrance.

 

When he slides in, Steve groans, head tipping forward as he lifts his other hand to Tony’s hip.  “Tony,” he says, thumb rubbing over his back.

 

“Holy fuck,” Tony says, his voice tight, “You gotta give me a few seconds, this is gonna be awesome.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve says, shifting so his knees spread a little wider, nudging against Tony’s.

 

“ _Fuck_ yeah,” Tony whines, “New fucking angle for us, man.  _God_ ,” he adds when Steve moves again, cock sliding in deeper, rubbing against his prostate, “Fucking hell.”

 

“Tony,” Steve whines, rolling his hips.

 

“Yeah, yeah, fucking go ahead, I’m just—” he breaks off in a high cry when Steve pulls out and sinks back in heavily, jerking him forward a little.

 

He wants to fuck him, Steve realizes, good and slow, wants to break him apart, and so he sets a brutal pace, hands curled tight around Tony’s hips, hard enough that he thinks he might have bruises, but he doesn’t care, he just wants to hold onto him and make him scream.

 

Tony shifts up so Steve has better control, turns his head so he can breathe better, his fists clenching tightly in the sheets as Steve fucks him, and he knows what he’s doing, knows why this is so fucking good right now.  He doesn’t think he’ll last long like this, though, not with Steve’s cock filling him on each slow thrust, passing over his prostate until he’s trembling.  He doesn’t know what sounds he’s making, isn’t in control of what he sounds like right now, and he doesn’t care.  He’s a mess because of Steve, and he loves it.

 

Tony is tight and hot beneath him, and Steve can’t help but pick up the pace a little, groaning as Tony takes him in eagerly on each thrust, and he sounds absolutely _wrecked_.  He can feel him getting close, though, just from the way the muscles in his back tense, and so he reaches an arm to curl around his front, pulling.  Tony goes, rising up onto his knees as his feet curl around Steve’s calves, and, when he straightens, he whines, high and thin, stilling in Steve’s lap.  “I love your fucking cock,” he groans, head falling back against Steve’s shoulder, “Holy _fuck_ , I love it.”

 

And then he’s moving.  Tony lifts his head, his hands coming around to grab at Steve’s, pinning them to his waist, and then his thighs tighten and he rises up higher.  He fucks himself down onto Steve’s cock, breath stuttering out of him, and Steven just groans and leans forward, nudging at Tony’s neck with his nose until he tips his head forward, letting Steve map out his shoulders with his mouth.  He kisses over to the nape of his neck, and then he bites, and Tony lets out this loud, beautiful noise, ass fluttering around Steve’s cock as he slams back down, and Steve just grins and bites harder, mouth sealing over as he sucks a bruise.  Tony’s voice gets higher as he rocks in Steve’s lap, hips circling, barely lifting off, but it’s good, it’s fucking _amazing_ , and Steve’s short of breath when he finally releases his neck.  He mouths up and around to just below Tony’s ear, bites there, and Tony’s hand finds Steve’s on his hip, pulling it off so he can thread their fingers together, squeezing tightly.  His other he curls around his cock, jerking himself quickly, eyes closing as Steve kisses around to his other ear, teeth scraping over the shell before he pulls back, and Tony braces himself.  Steve’s hand comes down on his shoulder, and Tony goes, letting Steve push him back down until he’s on his knees, one hand holding him up, the other fisting tightly over his cock, and then Steve inhales, and, on his exhale, pulls out.  When he slides back in, he gives Tony a second to breathe, and then he’s fucking into him like they’re about to be caught, hips slapping against his ass in quick succession, chasing after the heal pooling in his belly.  He leans down, mouthing down Tony’s spine, and he pauses at the middle of his back, nipping lightly until Tony gasps, and then he bites.

 

Tony’s breath leaves him as there’s a low tug in his belly, and he rocks back toward Steve, something high building in his throat.  “Oh, _fuck_ ,” Steve gasps suddenly, releasing his back to drop his forehead against his shoulder, his thrusts becoming erratic and _hard_.  “Fuck, Tony.”

 

“Steve,” he whines, “Fuck, I wanna come, I’m so close, I just—”

 

He needs him deeper, needs to let Steve push him over the edge, and so he drops down onto his elbows, releasing his cock, and Steve moans, loud and low.  The head of his cock rubs over Tony’s prostate, again and again, until Tony gasps, and then, the noise erupts into a low scream, shaking as he comes, and it’s Steve’s undoing.  He doesn’t mean to, but Tony is so beautiful like this, his back peppered with Steve’s teeth marks, his shoulders jumping as his scream fades into a quiet moan, his breaths filling the room, and he shouts when he comes, cock sliding in as he stills, filling Tony, nails biting into his hips.  Tony lets out this broken noise as he does, and Steve looks down at him, whining when he sees Tony staring up at him with dark eyes, mouth open in a pant.

 

It takes them a few moments, but then Tony’s shifting away from him, and Steve pulls out, waiting for Tony to roll over onto his back before he follows suit, lying next to him.  “Wow,” Tony says, looking over at Steve.  He’s still breathing hard, his chest rising and falling quickly, and Steve just nods, closing his eyes.  “Okay,” Tony says, patting Steve’s chest, “No offense, I want to cuddle with you, but there’s a fucking hammer in my chest.”

 

Steve looks over as he gets up, crawling over to the edge and getting off the bed.  He stumbles, hitting the nightstand, and he groans, pushing away and staggering over to his backpack.  Steve pushes up onto his elbows, watching him.  “You okay?” he asks.

 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Tony mumbles, and then he sits down because his head is spinning.  He yanks open his backpack, looking for his meds.  Steve gets up off the bed, going into the bathroom to clean up and pee, and, when he comes back, Tony’s struggling to open his diuretics.  He whines, handing it up, and Steve takes it, opening the bottle before he sits.  He hands over two, and Tony gratefully takes them, though he groans when he tries to swallow and can’t.  “Get me some fucking water,” he says, pushing at Steve, who nods and gets to his feet, going over to his desk where a bottle is sitting.  He comes back with it, and then Tony takes the diuretics while Steve looks for his anticoagulants.

 

“Want anything else?” he asks when he hands over one of those.

 

“Inhaler, probably, and—fuck if I know.  _Oh_ , I forgot, I was prescribed Ativan recently.  That’ll work nicely probably.”

 

“For anxiety, right?” Steve says as he digs around in his backpack.

 

“Yeah.  Started seeing a new shrink when I got back from France.”

 

“How many?”

 

“Just one should be fine.  Thanks, babe,” he adds when Steve taps one out and hands it over.

 

After, he gets up to find them both pants, laughing when he takes out a pair of Tony’s jeans.  He holds them up to his waist, shaking his head.  “How do you even fit in these?” he asks, and Tony sticks his tongue out.

 

“Attractively,” he says, and Steve snorts, tossing them over.

 

They both get dressed, Steve in a pair of dark jeans and a blue and green flannel that Tony hums about and starts unbuttoning, so Steve slaps his hands and then his ass when Tony mutters rudely at him.  Tony ends up in his tight jeans that leaves Steve staring a little, a loose white vneck, and a dark grey sweatshirt that Steve thinks he may have stolen from him because it hangs around him where usually it would fit snugly against Steve.  After they’ve each done their hair and finished getting ready, they go downstairs for shoes and jackets, Tony pulling on his black boots and shrugging into his leather jacket, and Steve just shakes his head because he looks like he’s about to go out and kick ass.  Steve tugs on a pair of Converse, reaches for his cargo jacket, and then they’re off.

 

They go out to lunch at this Indian place Steve’s been wanting to try but hasn’t had anyone to go with, and they spend the meal laughing as they try different levels of spice.  Tony tells him about the time he went to Spain when he was twelve, how he got lost on their fourth day there, and instead of freaking out like a normal kid, asked around until he could convince a young woman to teach him Spanish.  He already had a basic understanding, and so, by the time the police finally found him later that night, he was chatting back and forth with the young woman’s grandmother as she cooked dinner.  When Maria came in and saw him, she just shook her head and sighed.  They’d ended up having dinner at the young woman’s place, though Howard had been furious when they finally returned to the hotel, claiming he was worried sick, but he was so drunk he could barely get the words out, so Maria had just steered him into their room, locked the door, and then taken Tony out for ice cream.  They spent the night at the beach, playing in the water until Tony was so tired he was stumbling, and Maria carried him back to the hotel.

 

Steve listens, smiling the whole time, and he just shakes his head when Tony’s done.  “You’re something else,” he says, so Tony makes an ugly face, and Steve starts laughing again.

 

“You tell me a story, then,” Tony challenges, so Steve tells him about one of the few vacations they actually went on, only a few years after Emma’s birth, so he’d been about fourteen, and she’d been three.  They’d gone to Hawaii, where Steve met this gorgeous girl near the end of the first week.  They were only staying for two weeks, and so, for the second week, he spent as much time with her as he could.  She was a local, and so she took him around to all her favorite spots, and, toward the end of their vacation, she took him to a volcano, and he had his first kiss.  He claims it would have gone farther, but her brother came running out of the bushes, thus commencing the first fight Steve had ever gotten in.  He was scrawny back then, and so he’d stumbled back to the house they were staying at with a black eye and a split lip, but he’d been grinning, shoulders held high.  In the end, they’d all had such a good time that they went back the next year, and he lost his virginity to the same girl, and, when her brother came running at him this time, he decked him.

 

“Dude,” Tony says when he finishes, “You’re awesome.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, shrugging one shoulder, “I know.”

 

They continue telling stories until they’re getting ready to leave, and their waiter comes over with their check.  He smiles as he reaches them, watching on as Tony slaps away Steve’s hand and says, “You can get tea.”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, glaring at him.

 

“Hey, you already paid your dues this morning,” he says, and Steve goes bright red as Tony turns his attention to their waiter, smiling pleasantly.  “Thank you,” he says as he hands over the check.

 

“Thank _you_ ,” their waiter says, “I have to say, you two make an adorable couple.  It gives me hope that someday I’ll have something as wonderful as you seem to.”

 

Steve’s blush fades as he looks over, and Tony’s smile turns fond as he glances at Steve, and he starts to smile in return until Tony opens their check, and then he remembers why he was mad.  “No,” he says, reaching over, “You can’t just trade sex for food.”

 

“I can!” Tony exclaims, leaning away, “And I _will_.  Damn it, Steve,” he laughs, reaching out a foot to push him away.  He digs in his pocket, getting his wallet and flipping it open.  “I apologize for him,” he says to their waiter as he hands over a card, “He’s usually better behaved.”

 

“Oh, _I’m_ the ill-behaved one?  You’re so petulant, you put every bratty child I have ever met to shame,” Steve says, sinking back into his seat, and though he tries to bite it back, Tony still sees his grin.

 

“I take that as a compliment, asslamp,” he says, and their waiter just laughs before he walks away.  “Hey,” Tony says, nudging Steve with his foot, “We’re adorable.”

 

Steve shakes his head, ducking his eyes.  “I might be,” he murmurs, and Tony guffaws.  Steve starts laughing loudly, shoulders shaking as he looks back up at him.  “You make the ugliest noises,” he says, so Tony pulls a face, and that just makes Steve laugh harder.

 

Eventually, they make it out to the restaurant, and Steve takes Tony’s hand when he starts to go over to the car.  “What?” Tony says, letting Steve tug him down the street.

 

“Tea, remember?  There’s this amazing coffee shop nearby,” Steve says, and then, though he would normally try not to bring up his ex while dating someone else, he continues, “Bucky took me to it one time.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Just trying to be honest with you,” Steve says.

 

“Thank you,” Tony says, smiling, “I appreciate it.  You know, I think honesty is a good policy.  I think it makes more sense for couples to tell each other everything rather than try to hide something and deal with the fallout later on.  Betty and Bruce are a perfect example of why just being as open as possible is a fantastic idea.”

 

“Well, then let’s try that,” Steve says, and Tony nods.

 

When they reach Jaho, Tony orders something ridiculous that actually sounds delicious, and Steve’s having a hard time deciding, so Tony winks at him, says, “I’m a professional.  It’ll be good, I promise,” before he orders something for Steve.

 

“Go find somewhere for us to sit,” he says, shooing Tony away as the barista rings up their drinks.

 

“I’m onto you, shoulders,” Tony says, kissing his shoulder before he heads off, and Steve sighs when he sees him disappear into the bathroom.

 

After he’s paid for the drinks, Steve finds them a table near the window.  Rain has started to fall outside, fast and hard, and he frowns, watching it until he hears, “Steve?”

 

He looks over, and Bucky is just _there_.

 

Steve blinks, unsure how to proceed, but then Bucky starts to frown, and he says, “Hey.  Bucky, it’s—it’s great to see you.”

 

Bucky brightens immediately, nodding.  “Yeah, you too.  Mind if I—” he trails off, motioning to the seat.

 

“Um,” Steve says, and then the bathroom door opens, and he looks over.  Tony pauses just outside, looking at Bucky before he shifts his gaze over to Steve, eyebrows lifting.  “I’m here with Tony,” Steve says finally, and Bucky follows his gaze to where Tony’s still standing.

 

Steve shrugs one shoulder, and Tony nods, giving him a small smile before he goes over to wait for their drinks.  “I’m sorry,” Steve says, starting to stand.

 

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky says, looking back at him, “I just—”

 

“Can we talk for a minute?” Steve asks.  Bucky stares blankly back at him for a few moments before he nods, carefully taking the seat opposite Steve.  “How are you?” he asks.

 

“Okay,” Bucky says, “School is good.  Home for Thanksgiving break right now.  I, uh—I’m really sorry about how things ended, Steve.”

 

“I am, too,” Steve says, “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.  I’m sorry if I hurt you.  It was never my intention.”

 

“I know.  I just—I miss you so much, Steve.”

 

“I miss you, too,” Steve says, and he thinks he might even mean it a little, “It was weird those first couple of weeks.  I wasn’t ready for the silence.”

 

“I wanted to call you,” Bucky says, leaning forward, “I wanted so badly to hear your voice.  Should I have?”  He starts to reach across the table, and Steve leans back, glancing over at Tony, who’s doing his best not to watch them, but his fingers are tapping so fast against his thigh, Steve knows he’s worried.

 

“I don’t—I’m not trying to be rude,” Steve says, looking back to Bucky, “But I’m here _with_ Tony.”

 

“What?” Bucky says, brow furrowing in confusion.

 

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Steve says, and it dawns on Bucky.

 

He shakes his head, leaning away.  “Steve, no.”

 

“We’re dating,” Steve says before he can continue, “I’m sorry.  I want to be friends with you, Bucky, and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.  I—”

 

“I guess it makes sense,” Bucky cuts him off, straightening, “I guess I always knew it would come to that eventually.”

 

“Bucky—”

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky says, “I understand, but—I can’t just be your friend, Steve.  That’s not how this works.”

 

Steve sighs, glancing over again.  Tony is at the counter, smiling at the barista as he takes the drinks.  He smiles without meaning to as Tony turns, catching his gaze, and Tony blows him a kiss.

 

“I should go, obviously,” Bucky says, starting to stand.

 

“It was nice seeing you,” Steve says, his smile going a little sad as he turns his attention back to him, “And, Bucky—it can work that way.  We could be friends.  It’s just a matter of moving on and having strength.  There’s nothing that says we can never speak to each other again.”

 

“Unfortunately, there is,” Bucky says, putting on his jacket, “His name is Tony.”

 

Steve starts to retort, but it’s not worth it, and so he just shrugs and says, “If that makes it easier, okay.”

 

“Bucky,” Tony says as he reaches their table.

 

“Asshole,” Bucky mutters in response, and Tony just rolls his eyes and steps aside, letting him storm away.

 

“Well, that was fun,” Tony says, taking his seat and passing over Steve’s drink, “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, smiling and reaching for Tony’s hand, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss his knuckles, “Better now that you’re here.”

 

“Cheesy lines are the future,” Tony says, quirking an eyebrow as he lifts his tea.

 

“Don’t make me swear at you,” Steve says, and Tony laughs.

 

They spend an hour at Jaho, just talking and drinking, though, when they’re getting ready to leave, it’s _pouring_ , and Tony starts whining about his hair, so Steve calls him a queen, and then, when they get outside, Tony jumps in a puddle and soaks them both.  By the time they hit the highway, it’s so bad, Tony’s going thirty below the speed limit, and his left leg is bouncing.  “Hey,” Steve says, reaching out a hand to rub over his thigh, “It’s okay.”

 

“I don’t fucking like driving in the rain,” Tony mutters, “Snow is no problem, I don’t give a shit about snow, but rain?  No fucking thanks.”

 

Steve sighs and sits back, trying to think of how to distract him.  He hasn’t come up with anything when Tony groans and lets his head thud back against the seat, and then it occurs to him.  He digs out his phone, says, “Hey Jarvis, sync to my phone, yeah?”

  
“Of course, Mister Rogers,” Jarvis replies, and Tony looks over.

 

“You sweet talking my man?” he says, and Steve snorts.

 

“Shut up,” he says as he opens his Pandora app, clicks on the ocean channel, and, when he looks up, Tony’s beaming.  “What?” he says.

 

“Oh, just you,” Tony says, glancing over at him, and Steve lets out a hard breath when Tony’s gaze rakes over him, teeth scraping over his bottom lip.  “You’re totally getting laid tonight,” he says, and Steve groans.

 

“My family will be home,” he mumbles.

 

“Ever gotten head in the shower?  That shit’s where it’s at.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“It is going to be a good night, butt cheeks.”

 

“Oh my god,” Steve sighs, so Tony cackles.

 

When they get back to the house, the windows are dark, though both cars are in the driveway.  The wind is howling outside, trees trembling in its wake, and Steve and Tony exchange glances before they get out, yelling as the rain pelts against them.  Tony hops between each feet as Steve tries to get his keys out, but then the door is pulled open, and they hurry inside.  “Ow, ow, ow,” they whine, shucking off their jackets.

 

“That actually hurt,” Tony says, reaching up to rub his neck, “Oh, hey Riley.”

 

“Hey,” Riley says, closing the door, “Mom saw you pull up and told me to go let you in.  The whole neighborhood lost power.”  She waits for them to put their shoes away before leading them into the kitchen, where dozens of candles are lit, and they’re playing a board game.

 

“We’re just gonna go change,” Steve says, and Sara nods.

 

Upstairs, they change out of their wet clothes into something dry and comfortable, and, when Steve turns around, Tony’s wearing one of his sweatshirts, and he pulls him close, kissing him.  “That mean I can steal it?” Tony asks when they pull apart, and Steve just nods and kisses him again.

 

They go back downstairs, Tony in his yoga pants, black material hugging tight to his legs so that Joe laughs and asks him how he breathes in them, which of course means Tony needs to show off, and he does a walk over, Emma cheering when he stands again.  Steve’s just in sweats and a loose shirt, but Tony has to remind himself that they’re with Steve’s family because the sweats hang low on his hips, and he wants to slide his hands beneath.

 

They join in on the board game—they only started Monopoly a few turns ago, so they just start a new game—and the afternoon passes on until Sara’s trying to figure out what to make for dinner, and they end up with cold cuts and chips, passing everything around the island before they store it back in the fridge.  “Remember, no opening unless you already know what you want,” she says as she closes it.

 

“So, what are we gonna do after dinner?” Emma asks.

 

“I think we should do family yoga,” Leah says, and Riley and Joe groan.  “Come on, it’ll be fun.  Tony and Steve can lead it, and it’ll take up at least an hour until we can figure out something else to do.”

 

“Okay,” Sara says, nodding, and Joe groans again.

 

It turns out to be quite the laugh.  Tony cuts down the routine to the simple stuff, and they all laugh whenever Joe falls out of a pose.  It still takes an hour, but it’s fun, and, afterward, Riley’s running off to get Apples to Apples.

 

By the time they finish, it’s late, and Tony’s been rubbing at his shoulder, so Steve excuses them for the night.  Upstairs, Tony sheds his sweatshirt, and they get through an entire massage platonically, which Steve thinks is a fairly awesome improvement for them.  After, Tony flops down, and though they intend to stay up for a while, they end up falling asleep early, tangled in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this is coming kind of late today, I know I usually post earlier. It’s been hell this week. Tuesday night, Gracie’s eye swelled shut, so I made an emergency vet appointment for her the next morning. I literally only got them on Saturday, which was $310, and then her appointment cost me $125 with the medicine, which she is being such a bitch about, but it’s eye drops, so I get it, so it’s been a bit of a stressful week on that end. To top it off, I’m going for the customer service manager position where I work, and it’s, like, 99% a done deal because I’ve been there for five years, and my general manager and I have been talking about it for months now, but it’s just _not happening_ , and I have no idea why. It’s taking forever, and I didn’t reapply for the summer camp that I usually work at because I wouldn’t have time, and yet, I’m still only a supervisor. It’s just really frustrating, especially because I work forty hour weeks, which I’m used to, but it’s been really busy lately, so it sucks. Whatever, I’m complaining simply because I want to. I’m finally home, Gracie’s eye looks so much better, I have Tuesday and Wednesday off, I filled out the official job application as a formality today, I’m gonna see _How to Train Your Dragon 2 this week_ , probably _Transformers: Age of Extinction_ , maybe _Godzilla_ again, I bought chips, and I finally started rereading _Dragonlance Chronicles_ , so it’s actually a pretty good life right now. Oh! And I finished season one of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ , which is _amazing_ and makes me want to write about bending magic all over again. Really, I’ve just been thinking about my books a lot, and I want to write them, but it takes a lot of brain power, most of which I don’t have right now.
> 
> There’s a point somewhere to all this rambling, and I’m almost there. I’m there. I only have ten chapters left that are already written, and my fervor for writing this has gone way down. It’s mostly because Erin and I don’t live down the hall from each other anymore so we can’t bother each other to write, but it’s also because I’m working again and the books. The books are always a problem when it comes to fanfiction. It’s been over a year since I wrote them, and I’ve started dreaming about them again, so I feel it coming. I felt it coming in December, it was this little nagging that wouldn’t go away, this little voice that is definitely Rónán, my main character, willing me back, and he might be winning soon. I’m not at all saying I’ve stopped writing this. I still am, just not as quickly as I was, so this is more of a small warning that my updates might start getting farther apart the closer we get to where I am in writing, partly because I’m going to keep forgetting because work is a bitch and makes me tired, but also because I might catch up to where I am, and then I’ll have to convince myself to crank out a chapter quickly, and that never works because I hate pressure. My future editor is going to _hate_ me because I just despise deadlines.
> 
> I’m going to stop rambling. You probably didn’t need to read any of that, but I’ve been around stupid people all day and I wanted to talk a little. I’m going to go finish reading my chapter because Raistlin was finally introduced, and I’m overly excited, and so I’m going to eat chips, hang out with my ladies, and maybe do some book writing. Hey, if you’re interested in the books, you should ask me about them, and I’ll go a little crazy and rant about them, but they’re really cool, and I’m trying so hard to get them published, so someday you might actually see my name on bookshelves!
> 
> Also, happy birthday to one of the most talented and inspiring actors alive today, Chris Evans. You make every day brighter, and we are so lucky that you have opened yourself to the public eye so that we may experience your beautiful and stunning ability to capture our attention. You never fail to make me smile.
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! There’s a party at Thor’s toward the end of this, and it’s rather short, so [I Don’t Know What I’m Doing by Breathe Carolina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6IaDNS_YZPQ) will fit, and I’d recommend, for the tail end of the party, when the boys are on the balcony, [Shots Fired by Breathe Carolina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zH8Uee0IUBw).

They leave early the next day, Steve throwing things at Tony when he won’t get out of bed.  They both pack, have a quick lunch with the family, say their goodbyes, and then they’re headed out, Tony driving them back.  They’re halfway when Tony says, “We should move our beds together.”

 

“I have to meet up with someone to work on a project,” Steve says in return as he sends a text, “But we can do it after, if you want.”

 

“Wow, it’s that easy?” Tony says, glancing at him.

 

“Did you think I was going to not want to?” Steve asks, quirking an eyebrow, “Tony, as annoying as you are, I like sleeping in the same bed as you.”

 

“Do you now?”

 

“Well,” Steve says, shrugging and looking away as he grins, “Means I can demand sex whenever I want.”  Tony starts cackling, and Steve rolls his eyes.  “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“ _I know_ ,” Tony says, and so that’s that.

 

When they get back and get unpacked, Steve makes Tony promise to be good, tries to give him a quick kiss and ends up pinning him against the wall, though he doesn’t let them get much farther before he’s tugging on his ear to pull him away and then slipping out before Tony can convince him to stay.  Tony mutters something evil as the door is closing, and Steve laughs as he’s going down the hall.  Sighing, he goes to find his phone, texting Bruce when he does, _hey, come help me move some furniture?_

He goes over to his desk to finish setting up his electronics again, and it’s not long before Bruce comes knocking.  “Why are you gluing his shit to the ceiling again?” Bruce groans as he comes in, “That was so much fucking work last time, and my back is already starting to hurt just thinking of it.”  Tony turns, giving him a strange look as Bruce comes over and flops down on his bed, stretching out.  “Look,” he says, turning his head toward Tony, “I think that if you guys did the high school jizz again, you should just get the fuck over it, man up and tell him you want his dick in your ass, and see what happens?  Okay, cos you’re both kind of at fault now, and wait—you do take it up the ass, right?”

 

“Yes, I bottom, more often than not,” Tony says, and he starts to tell Bruce what’s really going on, but he’s curious, so he hops up onto his desk, and instead asks, “So, we’re both at fault?”

 

“Yes, you fucking are,” Bruce says, sitting up again and folding his legs under him, “You—you’re an asshole a lot of the time, and he’s also a really big fucking asshole for what he’s done to you, and if I were you, I wouldn’t even give a shit anymore, I would kick his ass to the curb and tell him he could either get out or get fucked.”

 

“I did say that one time, actually,” Tony says.

 

“There you go!” Bruce exclaims, reaching forward and slapping his knee, “So do it again.  Don’t play this game again, Tony.  You’re fucking miserable when he’s fucking miserable, and it’s no fun, and why are you grinning at me like that?”

 

Tony ducks his eyes, trying to hide it.  He reaches up a hand to scrub through his hair and then looks over at Bruce.  “I was going to ask you to help me move shit around so I could put our beds together.”  Tony shrugs when Bruce just gapes at him.  He tries to speak multiple times until Tony starts laughing.  “You look like a fish,” he giggles, imitating him.

 

“Fuck off,” Bruce says, slapping his knee again, “Why are your beds going together, Tony?”

 

“Because we boned, Bruce.”

 

Bruce stares at him with such a ridiculous expression that Tony almost falls off the desk.  “Real boning?” Bruce asks finally.

 

“Real fucking boning,” Tony says, his grin widening, “Course, we made sure to actually become boyfriends first this time.”

 

“Shut the fuck up!” Bruce erupts, jumping to his feet and embracing Tony.  When he releases him, he’s smiling, “Tony, that’s awesome.  How?  Give me the details, man.  Wait.”  Tony starts laughing as Bruce’s face falls.  “You asshole, did you tell Betty yet?”

 

“I was kind of hoping I could drop that on you.”

 

“Fuck _you_ ,” Bruce says, punching his shoulder and shaking his head.  “Alright, where do you want shit moved?  Why isn’t he helping you with this?  He’s got those shoulders and stuff.”

 

“God, I know,” Tony hums, “They’re fucking beautiful, Brucey.”

 

“Stop dreaming, asslamp.”

 

“Right,” Tony says, sliding off the desk, “I was thinking of moving my bed over to his side cos we usually end up over there anyway.  My desk is already over here, move his over here, too.  We could do a side by side thing, though not that close.  Maybe put the dressers on either end?”

 

“Nah,” Bruce says, looking around, “Leave Steve’s dresser over there, let you guys space out a little with the desks.”

 

Tony frowns, crossing his arms.  “I dunno, though.  He’s got good light over there for when he’s working.  Maybe leave his desk over there, move the dresser over to my side?”

 

“What about both dressers on one side, desks on the other?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony nods slowly.  “Yeah, that might work.”

 

They get to work rearranging the room until, an hour later, they’re left standing by the door, looking it over.  Both of the beds are pushed into Steve’s corner, the two dressers lined up against the wall, close to Tony’s closet.  The two desks are opposite, spread out, the window separating them.  The middle of the room is wide open, and Tony nods, smiling as he looks around.  “This is gonna be awesome,” he says, and Bruce just laughs.

 

“Tell Betty for me?” Bruce tries.

 

“Fuck no, tell her yourself,” Tony says, “It’ll be funny cos we have shit to do, so we won’t be snuggling when she comes barreling in.”

 

Bruce just groans and gives Tony a shove before he heads out.

 

——

 

Bruce waits until he gets the text from Tony, _Steve’s back, you ready?_ , and then he sighs and gets up from his desk, going over to their bed before he says, “Hey, Betty.”  She hums from where she’s sat at her desk, and Bruce sighs again, lifting a hand to scrub through his hair.  “Betty.”

 

“Yeah?” she says, looking over her shoulder.

 

“So, I’ve got some news,” he says, “But I’d like to remind you that I’m still a little sore from break, so if you could refrain from hitting me or throwing anything at me, that’d be fantastic.”

 

“Is everything okay?” Betty asks, frowning as she turns to face him.

 

Bruce glances back down at his phone, grimacing, and then he peeks up at her, trying to decide the best way to approach this.  He thinks the only effective way is to just jump in, and so he shrugs, lifts his head, and says, “Tony and Steve are dating.”

 

Betty just sits there.

 

“Betty?” Bruce says carefully when she doesn’t move.

 

“They’re _what_?” she says in response, jerking up from her chair.

 

“Uh, they’re dating.”

 

“ _When_?”

 

“I’m not sure, Tony only said—”

 

“ _HE TOLD YOU FIRST_?” she shrieks, and then she’s gone.

 

 _Incoming_ , he texts Tony, and he might be grinning.

 

In their room, Tony snorts and says, “Prepare for impact,” a second before Betty’s thundering footsteps crash down the hall and their door bangs open.

 

“YOU TWO—” she breaks off, the door slamming behind her when she catches sight of them.  Tony is on their bed, back against the wall, laptop balanced on his knees, and Steve is at his desk, working on a preparatory sketch for his drawing class.  Betty frowns, folding her arms over her chest as she glares at them.  “Was he lying?”

 

“About what?” Steve asks casually, and Tony almost breaks.

 

“About you two.”

 

“About us two what?” Tony says, and Steve turns his head to the side, trying to hide his grin.

 

“You know,” Betty says, motioning between them.

 

“You know what?” Tony asks.

 

Betty gives him a look, but he just continues to feign confusion.  “About you two— _you know_.”

 

“We don’t know,” Steve says, turning toward her, “What’s up, Betty?”

 

She fights with herself for a moment before deflating, shoulders sagging down.  “Nothing, I think Bruce is just—you asshole!” she erupts when she catches Tony laughing.  She runs over to him, and he squeals when she jumps on top of him, tickling.

 

“Betty, Betty, Betty!” Tony screeches, trying to escape.

 

“You little rat!  I can’t believe you tried to hide it from me!  And _you_!”  Steve tries to get up and run for the door, but Betty grabs one of the pillows and hurls it across the room.  It smacks into his head, and Steve stumbles, whining.  When he turns, Betty climbs off Tony and sits, shaking her head.  “Are you really dating?” she asks.

 

Steve looks over at Tony as he picks himself up, and he can’t help but smile.  “Yeah,” he says, not looking away from him, “We are.”

 

“ _Oh my god_!” Betty exclaims, shaking her fists, “Tell me _everything_!”

 

She urges Steve over, and they give her all the dirty details until she and Tony are giggling, and Steve is trying to hide.

 

——

 

Later that night, after they’ve all gone to dinner, after Bruce has pretended to gag over Tony and Steve sitting close and finally just ogling each other outright, after Betty has giggled with each of them in turn, after they’ve gotten back to the room and attempted to finish their homework, after Tony has mapped out Steve’s shoulders with his mouth until Steve is shoving him toward the bed and stripping him out of his clothes, after Tony has yelled for music from Jarvis, after Steve has fucked him like they’re being chased, after it all, Tony gives him a soft kiss and says, “I’ll be back in a bit, I need to check up on something.”

 

“Everything okay?” Steve asks, and Tony nods, giving him another kiss before he goes to finish dressing.  Steve is already in his sweats and a shirt, working at his desk, so Tony gets his things quickly, tugging on his boots and grabbing his jacket before he leaves.

 

He stops off at the super couple’s room, knocks while he’s opening the door, and smiles when he sees Betty lounging on their bed and Bruce at his desk.  “Hey guys,” he says.  Betty waves, and Bruce grunts, so Tony makes a face at the back of his head.  He glances back over at Betty, and she nods in Bruce’s direction, so Tony gives her a small smile and says, “I’m hungry, who’s coming with me for a food run?”

 

To his surprise, Bruce actually looks over his shoulder and says, “Mind if I volunteer?”

 

“Course not, man, you’re my favorite male scientist.  I said male!” he adds when Betty starts to get riled, “Keep your claws in.  It’s cold out, bring a jacket.”

 

“Yes, mom,” Bruce says as he gets up to find a pair of jeans to switch into.  He pulls on a sweatshirt after, kisses Betty goodbye, slips into a pair of boat shoes, and then grabs his jacket, following Tony out.

 

Outside, they stuff their hands in their pockets away from the cold, and Bruce looks over at Tony before he bumps shoulders with him and says, “Thanks, man.”

 

“What for?” Tony says, glancing over before he checks the street so they can cross.

 

“Betty’s making me fucking itchy, man.  I love her, but she gets so crazy when it happens, especially when I call her.”

 

“Was it that bad?” Tony asks, frowning.  He reaches over when they’re on the sidewalk again, looping his arm through Bruce’s, pulling his sleeve over his hand.

 

Bruce shrugs one shoulder, and he’s quiet for a bit, just walking.  “Dislocated my shoulder,” he says finally, “Bruised two of my ribs.  Concussion.  I passed out, woke up in the hospital.”

 

“Shit,” Tony says, and Bruce nods.

 

“Yeah,” he sighs, “My mom was still wasted, but managed to drive me there, though she couldn’t be seen driving drunk, not with her second DUI, so she dumped me in the waiting room, gave the nurse Betty’s number, and disappeared.”

 

“Jesus, Bruce,” Tony says, shaking his head, “How’re you feeling now?”

 

“Still sore,” Bruce says, stepping in a little closer.

 

Tony squeezes his arm, and he frowns when he hears Bruce take a shuddering breath.  They’re almost at the student center, so Tony pulls him in under the awning, and then takes his arm back so he can hug him, pulling Bruce close to him.  “You’re okay,” he murmurs, rubbing his back as Bruce drops his head to Tony’s shoulder, “You’re safe here.”

 

“I know,” Bruce whispers, “I know, I know, it’s just—god, Tony, Betty’s never been there right after one.  She looked so terrified.  She usually sees me a few days after, when it’s started to fade.  I mean, it’s been worse before, it’s been crazy, but she’s never seen it like that.”  He pulls back, lifting his hand to wipe at his face.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

 

“Hey,” Tony says, reaching for his other hand, “Don’t fucking apologize to me.”  Bruce laughs softly, and Tony just squeezes his hand and leads him into the student center.  “You know I’m here for you, Bruce, whatever you need, whenever you need it.  Though,” Tony adds, “If you want my ass, you gotta get through Steve now.”

 

“You’re horrible,” Bruce says, though he’s smiling, so Tony considers it a job well done.  Bruce sighs, and Tony releases his hand, letting him shrug his shoulders up and dig his hands in his pockets again.  “So, do you actually want food?” he asks, looking over at Tony.

 

“Dude, I _always_ want food.”

 

——

 

When Tony gets back, Steve is on the phone with his mom, and so he quietly changes and unrolls his yoga mat.  He drops into down dog, just hanging out until he feels like he could drift off, and then he shifts until he’s sitting, pulling his legs into full lotus.  His eyes get heavy as he focuses on his breathing, and Steve’s voice filters out until the only thing he can hear is the soft pitter patter of rain against the window.  He slips away, floating in this muffled world, just drifting.

 

Steve unrolls his mat, and Tony peeks out at him, smiling when he sees Steve getting into full lotus opposite him.  They meditate together, the soft lullaby of their breaths lulling Tony into something sleepy and calm.  Steve comes out before him, and Tony hums when he drops a kiss to Tony’s knee before he gets up, grabbing his shower caddy and flip flops.

 

He leaves, and Tony intends to come out and maybe do some quick yoga, but then he starts thinking about how close winter break is, which will be the first time he’s been in the same house as his father for more than a couple days in almost a year, and he’s still lost when Steve comes back.

 

He starts to come out as he hears Steve getting ready for bed, and he groans when his spine pops as he stretches out.  “I heard Thor was having a party this weekend,” Steve says as he slips under the blankets, “Wanna go?”

 

“Dude, yes,” Tony says as he goes over to his dresser to change.  Steve watches him, not really listening as Tony babbles on about why he loves parties because he’s still a little shocked this is real, that Tony clambers over him and drops down next to him, squirming under the blankets and curling close.  This is them now, and it makes Steve giddy.

 

In the morning, when he wakes, Tony has drifted away from him, though his hand is still curled around Steve’s arm, anchoring them together.  He rolls over, dropping a kiss on Tony’s temple before he slips out from under the blankets and stretches.  He changes into his running clothes, and then he heads out.  When he gets back, Tony is still asleep, and he looks so soft and adorable that Steve can’t help crawling back in bed, nosing at his shoulder before he lays kisses over the curving muscle.  “Stop,” Tony whines when he starts kissing his jaw, light, butterfly kisses that he knows tickles him.

 

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Steve murmurs, kissing his cheek before he gets out of bed again.

 

“Too early,” Tony mumbles.

 

“It’s eight.  We have class at nine.”

 

“Motherfucker.”  Steve just laughs before he starts digging around for something to wear that day.

 

It ends up being a fairly harmless week.  Tony says something lewd at him in French, their professor shrieks and demands he apologize, Steve blushes brightly and hides the rest of the class, and then they don’t see each other the rest of the day.  Tony texts him throughout French II because he’s bored, as well as advanced bio, but then Steve’s in drawing, and he can’t talk.  Thursday isn’t as bad because they’re both in class at the same time, but Friday, Steve gets out before eleven, and Tony’s in until after two, and Steve tucks in to do his homework, prepared to be agitated the whole time because he just wants to be with Tony, but then, the door is opening hours later, admitting Tony, and Steve’s barely noticed he was gone.  It occurs to him that they were best friends before they were boyfriends, and so they know how to live apart, how to not miss each other every second, and it feels like a breath of fresh air.  With Bucky, he was always wondering what he was doing, how he was, if he could talk.  With Tony, he’s just _there_.  Steve knows him so well already that he doesn’t have to wonder about those things, knows that they’ll have unlimited time later, and so it doesn’t matter when they’re not together, and it makes him smile.

 

“Hey muscles,” Tony says as he comes over, dropping a kiss on Steve’s shoulder before he dumps his backpack on their bed and climbs on, yanking off his shoes and throwing them across the room.  “So, Thor’s is tonight, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, turning to face him.  It’s weird having his desk over here, away from his bed, but he’s slowly getting used to it.

 

Tony is sprawled across the bed, arm thrown over his eyes, and Steve has a sudden, burning urge to be closer to him.  He gets up, crossing the room to him, and Tony hums when the bed dips with Steve’s weight.  “Hey,” he says softly, lifting his arm.

 

Steve kisses his shoulder and then mouth before lying next to him on his side.  Tony opens his eyes, turning his head so he can see him, and he frowns at his furrowed brow.  “What’s up?” he asks, thumbing over his forehead to smooth it out.

 

“Headache,” Tony mumbles.

 

Steve sighs, kissing him again before he gets up to shut off the light, grab a water, and then start undoing Tony’s jeans until he can get them down.  He climbs back in bed, putting his back to the wall and tapping his thigh so Tony will shift over until Steve can thread his fingers through his hair and massage his scalp.  He continues until Tony’s breathing has slowed enough that Steve thinks he might be asleep, and then he just runs his hands lightly over him, soft touches that remind him this is real.

 

Eventually, he pretends he’s going to get up to do some homework, and he just ends up curled up with Tony, slowly falling asleep until, before he realizes what’s happening, Tony’s whining and shoving him tiredly.  “What?” Steve groans, rolling away from him.

 

“Wake up,” Tony mumbles, smacking him.

 

“Stop,” Steve tries to roll further, and then realizes he can.  He looks over, frowning when he sees Tony walking across the room.  “Where are you going?”

 

“To pee.  It’s time for dinner.”

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Food time,” and then he’s gone.

 

Steve looks over at the clock—it’s six, so he stretches, trying to convince himself to get out of bed.  Tony returns while he’s still lying there, and he smiles, coming over and crawling up on top of him.  “I am crazy attracted to you,” he says before he leans down, kissing him.  He pulls away when there’s knock on the door, tapping Steve on the house.  “But I’m having an affair with food,” he continues, and Steve laughs, watching him get up before he holds out a hand so Tony will pull him upright, and then they head out for dinner.

 

——

 

When they arrive at Thor’s, the party is already well underway, and Tony grins, slapping Steve’s chest before he shrugs out of his jacket and throws it up onto the pile near the door before he makes a beeline for the booze cooler.  Steve puts their jackets away somewhere safe where he’ll remember later, and then goes to follow him.

 

Tony’s halfway to the cooler when he hears, “Ah ha, my conquest!”

 

“Oh shit,” Tony mutters, bracing for impact.

 

Thor crashes into him, lifting him into the air, and Tony squeaks, clinging to him so he won’t fall.  “Thor,” he whines, swatting at him, “Put me down.”

 

“My courtesan,” Thor says as he drops him back to his feet, “My cock is hungry for you.”

 

Tony erupts in a laugh, falling against Thor, who grins triumphantly, hand coming up to slide over his back.  Tony leans away quickly when it slides downward, shaking his head.  “Sorry, I’m with someone,” he says, and Thor makes the most devastated look that Tony almost feels bad for him.  “You know him,” Tony says, turning and waving when he sees Steve approaching, frowning.

 

“Hey,” Steve says as he comes up, and Tony skirts away from Thor, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his mouth.

 

“Hey yourself,” he says, beaming, and Steve allows a small smile, one of his hands coming up to rest in the small of Tony’s back.

 

“He can join,” Thor says, shrugging one shoulder, “ _Tony_.  Come on.  I miss you.”

 

“You miss my ass,” Tony says, stepping closer to Steve.  He loves the feel of his hand on him, holding him there, showing everyone that they’re together, loves that they can do this now, and he wants to show him off, wants to pull him onto the dance floor and let the whole world know they belong to each other.  “Come on,” he says, patting a hand against Steve’s chest and then just resting it there, “I need a drink.”

 

“If you say so,” Steve says, leading him off as Thor pouts.

 

Steve finds beer, which Tony downs half of in one go before he starts looking for something stronger, and he eventually comes back with a bottle of whiskey, grinning devilishly.  “You’re trouble,” Steve says, and Tony nods happily.

 

They finish their beers, knock back some of the whiskey, and then Tony’s leaning in close, lips brushing the shell of Steve’s ear as he says, “Dance with me?”  When he leans back, Steve nods, smiling brightly, and so Tony tugs him out toward the crowd, letting out a wild yell as they slide through thrumming bodies.  The track switches as Tony stops, turning, and _god_ , Steve’s hard just looking at him, with his wicked mouth curved up in a terrible grin, his eyes dark and dangerous as he steps in close.

 

“You,” Steve says, and he means to say more, but he needs him close, and so he reaches forward, hands sliding over Tony as he tugs him forward, pressing their bodies together, one hand slipping down to settle over the curve of his ass, squeezing lightly, and Tony laughs, arms coming up to loop around Steve’s neck as he drops his head back, hips moving to the beat of the bass, driving Steve crazy until he wants to press sharp kisses against his throat.

 

He can, he remembers, and so he leans down, licking over the column of Tony’s throat before he bites, soothing it with a soft, wet kiss that makes Tony groan, one of his hands curling around Steve’s shoulder, holding onto him as he continues to bite and kiss his way over, other hand coming up to pull the collar of his shirt aside so he can bite the curve where neck meets shoulder.  He bruises him, mouth hot against Tony’s skin, as Tony groans, pressing their denim groins together.

 

When they pull apart, Tony is breathing hard, and he leans up, fingers fisting in Steve’s hair and pushing him down so they meet in a hard, fast kiss, Tony’s teeth scraping over Steve’s lip before Steve’s licking inside, tasting Tony until all he can feel is him, everywhere.

 

The bass drops, and Tony twists in Steve’s grip, back slamming against his chest, and then Tony’s going to work, arms in the air as he dances like his veins are flooded with sound.

 

Their night continues on like this, dancing close and dirty, breaking only to drink until Tony’s kissing Steve, long and slow, and then he says over the music, “Outside.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, not questioning it, and he lets Tony tug him off.

 

They break out into the night, sans jackets, and Tony gasps in the night air, fingers curling around the railing of Thor’s balcony as he stares out into the dark.  Steve comes up behind him, arms circling him as he drops a kiss to his ear before he rests his chin on his shoulder, and Tony hums, leaning back into him.  “Everything okay?” Steve asks quietly.

 

“My head still hurts,” Tony mumbles, closing his eyes as he leans his head against Steve’s.

 

“Do you wanna go home?”

 

“Not really,” Tony says, “I like dancing with you when I’m actually allowed to.”

 

Steve smiles, kissing his jaw.  “Me too,” he admits, and Tony laughs softly, tucking his hands over Steve’s, who steps in a little closer, their bodies snug together.  “Shut up,” he says when Tony’s laugh gets louder.

 

“Hey, if I was that hard, I’d already be pushing you against the nearest available surface, and—Steve,” he breaks off when one of Steve’s hands slides lower, curls around the hard curve of his cock and squeezes lightly.

 

“You are that hard,” Steve’s hot breath rushes out over his skin.

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, and then Steve’s sliding the button on his jeans undone with such ease that it makes Tony groan, shifting against him.  “What are you doing?” he mumbles when Steve pushes down the zipper.

 

“I want you,” Steve says, his voice a low rumble against Tony’s ear.

 

“Fuck,” Tony says as Steve’s fingers dart below his jeans, slip inside and rub against his cock.

 

“I wanna be inside you, Tony,” Steve whispers, kissing his jaw again.

 

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony gasps, hips rolling fluidly now, “Fuck.  Right here.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I need you,” Tony says, hands already coming around to tug at Steve’s jeans, yanking them open before he reaches for Steve’s other hand, lifting it to his mouth.

 

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve groans when he takes three in his mouth, tongue curling around them.  He sucks until they’re slick, and then Steve’s taking them back, pushing Tony’s jeans down enough that his ass is bare, and then he’s rubbing the pad of one finger against his entrance.

 

“Steve,” Tony groans, pushing back against him, so Steve slides a finger inside, other one coming up to soothe alongside it, waiting for Tony to adjust before he slides that one in, as well.  He stretches him quickly, trying to keep his fingers steady, but Tony’s rambling, clenching tightly around him, begging for him to hurry up, and Steve can’t believe he’s about to fuck him in the middle of the night, _outside_ , where anyone might see, at a party, but then Tony’s whining loudly, and Steve fumbles with his jeans, getting them down enough that he can move with ease before he spits into the palm of his hand.  It’s not enough, and he starts to frown, but then Tony’s slapping his arm before he reaches for the back pocket of his jeans.

 

“I’m good at this,” he says as he pulls out a little packet of lube, and Steve laughs, forehead thudding against Tony’s back as he takes it.

 

“You’re— _something_ ,” he says, and Tony grins.

 

When he’s ready, and when Tony’s whining again for him to “hurry the fuck up or I’ll do it myself,” Steve takes one hip in hand, the other curled around his dick, and he guides himself to Tony’s ass, groaning when Tony gasps as he presses inside, and he means to go slow, but Tony uses the balcony, pushing away from it to slide himself down until his ass is snug against Steve’s hips.

 

He’s pressed flush against Steve, who loops an arm around him, Tony immediately lifting an arm to bracket around his, tangling their fingers together, and Steve fucks him like this, Tony so close he can feel him everywhere.  The cool night air nips at their skin, and Tony shivers against him, so Steve presses a hot kiss to his jaw, shifting so he can snap in a little harder, and Tony shouts, nails scraping over Steve’s hand.  “Steve,” he says hoarsely.

 

“Tony,” Steve groans, his thrusts hard, cock trapped in the tight heat of Tony’s ass as Tony shakes apart in his arms, breath roaring out into the night as they tangle together, chasing the fire that licks at them.

 

Tony curls his free hand around his dick, giving himself a good, few, slow strokes before he matches Steve’s, and then he’s all wound up, every muscle tight until he can feel Steve’s moan muffled against his neck, and he knows he’s close.  “Tony,” he gasps, temple pressing against his jaw, “Tony.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, closing his eyes, “Fuck, Steve— _Steve_.”

 

Steve shifts again, feet getting a little wider, and Tony’s mouth drops open in a gasp as the head of his cock slides over his prostate, again and again until he feels like he might break, and then Steve’s hand twists away from his, comes up and curls around his jaw, fingers reaching back to cradle his head as he turns Tony’s head, swallowing down his loud, low moan as he comes.  Steve bites his lip as he feels a tug, and Tony lets out a soft, trembling noise, pressing closer to him.  “Steve,” he says.

 

“Tony,” Steve pants, and then Tony’s kissing him again, hand coming up to thread through Steve’s hair, holding him there, and Steve comes like this, Tony hot and tight around him, his trembling moan spilling into Tony’s mouth.

 

When they finally pull apart, Steve’s forehead drops down onto Tony’s shoulder as Tony lets out a soft laugh.  “Wow,” he says, and Steve just hums, rubbing his temple against Tony’s jaw briefly before he leans up and away, easing out of him.  Tony gasps, lilting forward a little, and Steve looks down at him, teeth scraping over his bottom lip as he takes him in.

 

“Damn,” he says, and Tony’s laugh is loud this time.

 

“It’s a good ass,” he says, looking behind him, and Steve just nods, grinning.

 

They pull their jeans back up, and, when Tony turns, Steve pulls him close, kissing him until they’re both breathless again.  When they break apart, Tony’s smile is loose and warm, and Steve mirrors it, thumb drifting over the corner of his mouth.  “Dance?” he says, and Tony nods.

 

“Yeah,” he says, though he leans up to kiss Steve again, holding him there before they finally return to the party.

 

——

 

Later, after they’ve stumbled back to their room, laughing and leaning on each other, after Tony’s dumped onto the bed and tried to wiggle out of his clothes, after Steve’s just giggled at his attempts until Tony finally gave up, after they’ve tried to shower together and ended up pressed against the wall, making out, they tumble into bed together, Tony curling close as Steve winds his arms around him, and they pass out.

 

Tony wakes up with a migraine worthy of a fucking medal.  He reels into consciousness, hot and aching, and he shoves Steve away from him, who groans, rolling as Tony clambers upright, vision swimming.  He whines because he can’t get out of bed, and then Steve kicks the blankets away, and he’s free.  He stumbles onto the floor, nearly falls, and then runs.  Steve frowns, looking over to the door, wincing when it slams.  He’s never known Tony to be drunk enough to have to run for the bathroom, and he certainly didn’t drink enough last night to be even close to his normal inebriated state.  He waits, watching the minutes go by, until it’s been too long, and he pushes up out of bed, yawning as he staggers across the room.

 

It’s early still, only about eight o’clock, and they got in around four, so Steve’s exhausted when he gets out into the hall, and their CA is just coming out of the bathroom, shaking her head.  “You know what,” she snaps when she sees Steve, “You two are both underage.  This is not fucking okay.”

 

“He’s not hung over,” Steve says, frowning at her, “I think he’s sick.”

 

“Yeah, okay, and you’re completely fucking sober, too.”

 

“Pretty close,” Steve says, trying to go into the bathroom, but she stops him, stepping in front of him.

 

“I’ll report you.”

 

“Amanda, neither of us are hung over,” Steve sighs, “We got in really fucking late, and I’m tired, okay?”

 

“Then why is he puking?” she demands, folding her arms over her chest.

 

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?  I just got out of bed to check on him.  Why don’t you just—Tony!” he calls into the bathroom.

 

“Fuck off,” Tony groans.

 

“Are you hung over?”

 

“No, I have a fucking migraine, _stop talking_.”

 

“Excuse me,” Steve says, stepping around their CA and going into the bathroom.  He flicks the lights off before heading for the third stall, where Tony didn’t have time to close the door and is hunched over the toilet.  Steve goes in with him, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

He comes over, frown deepening as he squats next to Tony.  “What can I do?” he whispers.  Tony leans his head on the rim, looking over at him blearily.  “Tony,” Steve sighs, reaching forward and pushing his hair back.

 

“Rub my back,” Tony mumbles, and Steve nods, moving so he can sit by him, one leg curling around him as he lifts a hand to his back, rubbing slow circles.  Tony closes his eyes, trying to just focus on Steve’s hand, but then his stomach rolls, and he heaves into the toilet again.

 

They spend the next fifteen minutes there until Tony’s sure he’s not going to be sick again, and then he waves a hand at Steve, who helps him to his feet, pauses at the sinks so he can wash his mouth out, and then takes him back to their room.  He helps him over to their bed, gets him settled, and then goes over to his desk to find something to give him.

 

“There’s, um—I have oxy somewhere in there,” Tony mumbles, and Steve looks over at him in surprise.  “Pharmacy, remember?” Tony tries to joke, but Steve just rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh look,” Steve says as he starts sifting through, “There’s Vicodin, too.”

 

“No, I had too much to drink last night for that.  Can you grab my other ones, too?”

 

“How’s your chest?” Steve asks as he starts pulling out bottles.

 

“Hurts.”

 

“Badly?”

 

“Getting there,” Tony says quietly, and Steve looks over to find his eyes closed.  He turns back to his desk, gathering the necessary pills before he caps the bottles and comes back over.  He helps Tony sit, handing him a water and one pill at a time until Tony’s giving him a tired smile and pulling at him.  “Sleep,” he mumbles, and Steve smiles, pressing a kiss to his temple before he climbs back into bed with him, curling around him, and they slip back under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love that they’re together. I hated writing them apart, and it’s been so much fun finally getting them together and exploring that dynamic between them. Speaking of dynamics, we’ve slowly been introducing Maverick to Lily and Gracie, which is going okay. He definitely likes them, and he wants to play with them, but he’s such a big oaf, and he’s 55lbs, and they’re literally only 1lb, so I’m worried about him accidentally hurting one of them. So hey, anyone have any tips for introducing a one and a half year old black lab to two kittens?
> 
> In the meantime, I do want to mention again about the updating thing. I have today and tomorrow off, but my game plan for today is to work on my third book, which I’ve recently discovered began way too early. I’ve got to spend some time with my master of torture, Rëno, who is easily one of my favorite evil dudes—probably because he’s like the Joker, he just wants to watch the world burn. That said, I don’t know if I’ll be writing this fic tomorrow, though we are starting to catch up. I’ve only got 41 chapters written, so we still have some time, but this is again just me saying that chapters might start to spread apart the closer we get to where I have written, and I really wish I could say don’t worry, I’m on it, but I really need to work on the third book. It’s been a year since I was last on Irizedd, my world, and I miss it dearly.
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone is having a fantastic day, and don’t forget to leave your thoug


	33. Chapter 33

Sunday arrives, and, with it, a day Steve’s not sure he’s ever going to forget.

 

Tony’s been feeling off and has spent most of the weekend in bed, nursing a migraine that won’t seem to go away, and most of their night previous had been spent trying to keeping him calm, his chest aching with a fury that left him struggling to breathe.  Steve figures anything he’s taken other than the medication he’s supposed to is likely worn off by the time Sunday rolls around, but, when he wakes, it hasn’t gotten any better.

 

Steve doesn’t realize what’s woken him until he hears it, the ragged, harsh sound of Tony trying to breathe, and he turns, looking over in concern.  He’s sitting, head tucked between his knees and hands threaded at the back of his neck, his whole body trembling.  “What do you need?” Steve asks, already getting out of bed.

 

Tony just wheezes, and Steve hurries across the room to his desk.  He gets his meds and then his inhaler before coming back over and sitting by him.  He slowly coaxes Tony out of his terrified position and helps him apply the inhaler before he reaches for one of the waters on the windowsill and gets him to drink some of it.

 

When he’s a little steadier, he leans over, and Steve scoots next to him, letting Tony fall against him.  “It hurts, Steve,” he mumbles, and Steve nods, rubbing his back.

 

“I know,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Tony’s hair, “Is there anything we can do?”

 

“I don’t know,” he admits, and he tries to go on, but then he’s letting out a small whimper before he can’t breathe again, chest heaving as he lifts a hand to claw it, fingers bunching in his shirt.

 

“I’m calling your mom,” Steve says, reaching for his phone.  Tony works himself through the brief fit, closing his eyes as he focuses solely on his breathing before he turns his attention to his heart, trying to gauge just how fast it’s going.

 

Steve frowns as he lifts his phone.  He has twelve missed calls, three voicemails, and a series of texts from his mom and both sisters.  “What the hell,” he murmurs, playing one of the voicemails first.

 

“Answer your fucking phone, moron,” Leah snaps at him, “Emma’s in the hospital.”

 

Steve jerks the phone away, staring at it in horror.

 

“What?” Tony says, seeing his face, “What’s wrong?”

 

“Emma,” Steve mumbles before playing the next voicemail.

 

“Okay, seriously, this isn’t funny,” Leah’s voice comes again, “Mom’s freaking out, and they won’t let us see her, and we don’t know what’s wrong, and Riley and I need you, Steve.  Oh my god, _please_ , answer your phone.”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, thumbing over to the next voicemail, “I have to go.”

 

“Steve, I don’t know what to do,” Riley says, “Mom won’t stop crying, and I’ve never seen dad cry before, but they won’t talk to us, and no one has come out to say that Emma’s okay, and Leah told me not to call you, but I’m scared.  I’m so scared, Steve.”

 

“What happened?” Tony says, hand curling around his arm.

 

“Emma’s in the hospital,” Steve says as he opens his contacts and scrolls down to Leah’s name.  He looks over at Tony as the phone rings, who stares back with wide eyes.

 

“Oh, thank god,” Leah answers, “Where the hell have you been?”

 

“Sleeping,” Steve says, “What happened?”

 

“We have no idea,” she says, her voice shaking, “Riley, I’ll be right back.”

 

“Is that Steve?” Riley’s voice echoes.

 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna tell him what happened, and then you can talk to him, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Riley mumbles.

 

“She came home early from school yesterday,” Leah says, “She had a high fever and was throwing up, so mom went and got her.  By dinner, she was shaking, and she started screaming, so I ran upstairs to check on her, and she had a nosebleed like I’ve never seen, Steve, and we took her to the hospital.  Her fever had spiked to 102, and she’s in intensive care right now, but we don’t know what’s wrong, and I’m so scared, and we need you.”

 

“I’m on my way,” Steve says, scrambling out of bed, “How’s mom and dad?”

 

“Mom won’t stop crying, and dad’s trying to calm her down, but she’s been inconsolable since we got here, and Riley’s starting to ask questions, and I don’t know what to tell her.”

 

“Tell her everything will be okay,” Steve says, heading for his dresser as Tony starts pushing the blankets away, getting out of bed slowly, “Tell her I’m on my way, and Emma will be okay.  I’m gonna hang up so I can get dressed, okay?”

 

“Okay.  Hurry, Steve,” Leah says before the line goes dead.

 

“I’m coming with you,” Tony says even as he drops back onto the bed, closing his eyes.

 

“No, you’re not,” Steve says, yanking on his jeans, “You can’t even stand up.  I’ll stop by Betty and Bruce’s room, get them to come in and look after you.”

 

“Steve,” Tony says, slowly opening his eyes again and looking over, “This is _Emma_.  I’m coming with you.  I’m fine.”

 

He pushes away from the bed again, and though his vision is swimming, he manages to make it across the room and to his dresser, pulling open the top drawer.  “Tony,” Steve says, reaching for him and stopping him, hands curling around his wrists, “Please.  I need to worry about them right now, and I can’t take care of you if I’m taking care of them.  I need to know you’re okay.”

 

“You can’t go alone,” Tony mumbles, looking up at him, “Let me come with you.”

 

Steve stares down at him, his jaw clenched tightly, and it’s a long moment before he sighs and kisses his forehead.  “I’ll ask Betty to come with me,” he says, and Tony nods.

 

“Okay.  Take my car, at least,” he says, and then starts to turn away when his knees go weak, and he sags against Steve, letting out a hard breath.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, his voice hard.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m just—I’m just dizzy,” Tony mumbles, pushing away from him.  He manages to get his feet under him, and he goes back over to the bed, sitting down heavily.  “Go,” he says when Steve lingers.

 

Steve nods, hurrying to finish dressing before he grabs his backpack and starts shoving things inside.  “I’ll call you,” he says as he stops by Tony, tilting his head up to kiss him, “Please do the same if anything happens.”

 

Tony nods wearily, offering him a small smile, and he means to give him encouragement, but he feels like he’s going to pass out, so he just holds the smile until Steve’s gone, and then he tips over onto his side, closing his eyes as he starts shaking.

 

Steve runs down the hall, Tony’s keys biting into his palm.  He skids to a stop outside the super couple’s door, knocking loudly and quickly.  “Mother _fucker_ ,” someone mutters inside before the door is pulled open to reveal a squinting Bruce, “What the fuck, dude?  It’s, like, eight fucking thirty.”

 

“My sister’s in the hospital,” he says, and Bruce’s face transforms, eyes bugging wide, “I need one of you to look after Tony.”

 

“Has it gotten worse?” Betty asks as she gets out of bed, coming over.

 

Steve nods.  “Yeah, it’s—I’m worried about him.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce says, looking over at Betty, “Um.”

 

“Do you want one of us to go with you?” Betty asks.

 

“I mean,” Steve says, and then it starts to hit him, a wave rolling through him that he struggles to contain, tears welling in his eyes as he thinks of his baby sister, lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, with no idea what’s wrong.

 

“Hey,” Betty says, smiling, “It’s going to be okay.  Let me just get dressed.  Do you mind staying with Tony?” she adds to Bruce as she goes back into the room.

 

“Yeah, I’ll keep you updated,” he says, turning back into the room, as well, holding the door open long enough for Steve to realize he’s being invited in.

 

Betty dresses quickly, shimmying into a pair of jeans, pulling on a shirt and then one of Bruce’s sweatshirts, while Bruce packs her bag, and then she’s toeing on her shoes as Steve grabs her jacket, and she kisses Bruce goodbye before heading out with Steve.  “How are we getting there?” she asks as she shrugs on her backpack before reaching back to pull her hair up into a ponytail.

 

“Tony’s car,” Steve says, and she nods, smiling when he holds open the front door for her.

 

“How is he?” Betty asks.

 

“Bad.”

 

“Steve,” Betty says, reaching over and taking one of his hands, “Everything is going to be okay.  Now give me the car keys.”

 

“Betty—”

 

“Steve,” she says sharply, and he hands them over, nodding.

 

——

 

“Hey man,” Bruce says as he comes into the room, and Tony just whines in response.  “Shit, Tony,” Bruce says, hurrying over, “You okay?”

 

“No,” Tony groans, rolling over onto his back, “There’s a fucking anvil on my chest.”

 

Bruce looks around, not really sure _what_ he’s looking for, but then he spots the meds still on the windowsill, and he reaches for them, sitting next to Tony.  “Come on, take these,” he says, helping him up.  Tony sags back against their pillows, his breath rushing out as he tries to lift a hand, and Bruce sighs.  “Open up,” he says as he uncaps the diuretics.

 

They get through all of them eventually, and then Tony’s just sitting there shaking, and Bruce doesn’t know what to _do_ until Tony grabs his hand, his other one pressed against his sternum.  “My mom does massage therapy when it’s bad,” he says, looking over at Bruce.

 

“I can do that,” he says, and he starts to help Tony lay down again when Tony shakes his head.

 

“It’s actually a little better right now while I’m sitting.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce says, staring at him for a second before he shrugs and shifts until he’s straddling Tony’s thighs, sitting carefully.

 

Tony tips his head back, hands sliding down by his sides again, and Bruce starts to apply pressure to his chest, slowly massaging his fingers around.  “Did Steve leave already?” Tony asks softly.

 

“Yeah, Betty went with him.”

 

“Thanks for coming in here.”

 

“Of course,” Bruce says, “Whatever you need, man, just let me know.”

 

“Just—just _talk_ ,” Tony says, looking down at him, “Tell me a story or something.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t care,” Tony sighs, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain flares up, spreading through his chest again, “Anything.  A distraction.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce says, trying to think, and then, like sunlight through clouds, he remembers the first time he met Betty, and he just starts talking, and Tony lets his voice lull him toward sleep, smiles as Bruce’s voice gets soft and fond, and Bruce just keeps going until Tony’s breathing is even, and then he carefully climbs off him and just stares at him, trying to will his hands to stop shaking.  He doesn’t know how Steve does this, how he remains so calm when his best friend is shattering apart, and there’s nothing he can do.

 

——

 

It takes them just over an hour to get to the hospital, and, when they finally arrive, Steve can’t get out of the car fast enough.  Betty follows him at a slower pace, and Steve’s already in the waiting room and hugging his family when she comes in behind him.  His sisters are beautiful and look just like him, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and they hold onto him tightly after he’s stepped away from his parents.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve shushes them, “Everything will be okay.”

 

Betty takes a seat, fishing out her phone and opening her messages, tapping into Bruce’s and typing, _hey babe, just got to the hospital.  How’s Tony?_

“Can I talk to you?” Steve says after he’s pulled away from his sisters, and his parents nod, standing.  “Guys, this is Betty,” he says to Leah and Riley, “She’s one of my best friends.”

 

“Hi,” Leah says, taking Riley’s hand and leading her over.

 

Steve disappears with his parents as Betty smiles at the girls.  “You’re Tony’s pretend girlfriend, right?  That’s what he always told Emma, before he and Steve started dating,” Riley says.

 

Betty laughs, nodding.  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.  How old is Emma?”

 

“Nine,” Leah says, looping an arm around Riley when she sniffs, “She’s strong, though.  She’ll be fine.”

 

“Of course,” Betty says, “With a brother like Steve, I doubt any of you could get into any serious trouble.  You’re lucky to have him.  Oh, sorry,” she adds when her phone starts buzzing.

 

 _I don’t know_ , Bruce sends back, and Betty waits as he continues typing, _he’s asleep right now, but it’s awful, Betty.  He’s not breathing right, and he looks like he’s in pain.  I don’t know what to do._

_Maybe call his mom, see if she has any ideas?_ Betty types before turning back to the girls.  “Sorry, just checking up on my actual boyfriend.”

 

“What’s his name?” Leah asks.

 

“Bruce.”

 

“How long have you been dating?”

 

Betty knows they’re looking for a distraction, so she takes the bait, “Almost three years now.  We grew up together, started dating in our junior year of high school.  Do you have a boyfriend?”

 

“I do,” Leah says, smiling softly, “His name is Alex.  Steve doesn’t like him, but I don’t think he likes anyone that we’re interested in.”

 

“We’re?” Betty repeats, ducking her eyes so she can see Riley, “And are you dating anyone?”

 

Riley nods, looking up, “My best friend, Alexis.”

 

“Alex and Alexis?  Goodness, that’s fun.  Do you ever get them confused?” she teases.

 

Riley laughs softly, shrugging.  “Sometimes,” she admits.

 

“I bet—” Betty breaks off as her phone starts ringing, and she starts to ignore it when she sees Bruce’s picture.  “I’m sorry, one second,” she says, sliding her thumb over the screen to answer the call, “I’m kind of—”

 

“I think he needs to go to the hospital.”

 

“What?” Betty says sharply, straightening.  The color drains from her face as her eyes go wide, and she wants to get up and pace away, but she doesn’t want to frighten the girls, and so she stays put, her other hand closed in a tight fist.

 

“He’s—shit, hold on.  Hey, hey,” Bruce’s voice drifts off, “Tony, it’s okay.  Just breathe, man, it’ll pass.”  Betty bites her lip as she hears Tony crying, mumbling desperately, incomprehensible but for the word _mamma_.  “I know, I know,” Bruce says calmly, “Come on, we’ll get you back to the room, and I’ll call her.  Can you walk?  Fuck.”  And then Tony’s puking, and Betty lifts her hand to her mouth, teeth gritting together as she tries to force back the tears that threaten to spill over.  Bruce comes back suddenly, “He’s a mess, Betty.  Nothing’s working.”

 

Betty looks up as Steve comes back in, and she quickly composes herself a second before he looks over at her, but the girls are staring at her with mirrored expressions of concern, and Steve frowns.  “Betty?” he says.

 

“Hey,” Betty says, lowering her hand and trying for a smile, “Everything good?”

 

“Is that Bruce?”

 

“Yeah, just checking up on our favorite troublemaker,” she says lightly.

 

“Tony,” Bruce says in her ear, and it’s a quiet sort of confusion that nearly breaks Betty until he says it again, “ _Tony_ ,” and it’s terrified this time in a way she’s only ever heard when Bruce is calling her from his house.  “Tony!” he shouts, and then there’s a loud noise like the phone clattering against the ground.

 

Steve sits with his sisters, and Riley goes around to his other side so Leah can lean against him, as well.  He loops an arm around each of them, dropping a kiss to their heads before he looks over at Betty, frowning.

 

She can’t move.  All she can hear is the awful silence until, “ _Someone help me_!” and then she jerks up out of her seat, starting to walk away when Steve says her name.

 

“I’m sorry, I’ll be right back,” she says before she leaves, her steps quick and hard until she reaches the doors, and then she sprints out of them, gasping in the cold air as hot tears slide down her cheeks.  “Bruce,” she says desperately, “Bruce, please.”

 

“What’s going on?” their CA’s voice echoes through the phone.

 

“Call an ambulance!” Bruce shouts, and there’s this heavy stillness that just sits there until Bruce roars, “ _Amanda_!  Call an ambulance!”

 

Minutes tick by, agonizing and horrible until Bruce finally comes back to her, his voice coming from a distance, “Betty, I need you.”

 

Betty raises her voice so he’ll be able to hear, “Anything.”

 

“Call Maria.  Let her know I’ll text her which hospital we’re going to.  I have to go.  I’ll keep you updated on what’s—”

 

“Bruce, what is it?”

 

There’s silence, and then, “Heart attack, as far as I can tell.  Betty.”

 

“I love you.  Take care of him, Bruce,” she says before hanging up.  The doors open behind her as Betty dials Maria, and she looks back to see Steve approaching her.  “No,” she says, shaking her head and stepping back.

 

“Betty, what the hell is going on?” Steve demands, coming over.

 

“Steve, no,” she says, lifting a trembling hand.

 

“Betty?” Maria answers, “Hello darling, how are you?”  Betty starts to speak and then stops, just staring at Steve.  “Betty?”

 

“Maria,” Betty says, looking away quickly, “Tony had a heart attack.  He’s on his way to the hospital.  Bruce said he’d text you once he knew where they were going.”

 

“ _What_?” Steve exclaims, pulling Betty back around to face him.

 

The line goes dead just after Betty hears, “ _HOWARD_!”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Betty says as she looks up at Steve, “I didn’t—I didn’t want to worry you further, but—but—oh god, Steve.”  She breaks, a sob tripping out of her, and Steve immediately pulls her against him, holding her tightly.

 

“I should’ve stayed with him,” Steve mumbles.

 

“No,” Betty says, pushing against his chest so she can see his face, “Steve, no.  Your sister needs you, your _family_.  Tony has Bruce, and his mom will be there, and we’ll go see him after, but Emma needs you right now.”

 

“I should’ve stayed,” Steve says again, shaking his head, “If something happens to him—”

 

“Steve,” Betty cuts him off, slamming her fist off his chest, “Steve, _please_.  Don’t say that.”

 

“Betty,” he murmurs, and Betty just steps in close to him again, crying as Steve holds her, but all he can think about is Tony, how he’d forced a smile until he thought Steve wasn’t looking, and then he’d folded over, gasping in pain, and he doesn’t know how neither of them saw it coming.

 

——

 

Howard isn’t home, and that’s all Maria can think of as she tears out of the driveway.  Bruce hasn’t texted her yet, but she can’t stay in that house wondering where her husband is when her son is fading away.  She’s called him four times, and she needs him, needs to hear his voice, needs him to wrap his big hand around hers, needs him to be strong where she is weak because, despite everything, she still loves him, and he’s still Tony’s father.

 

Bruce texts her two minutes later, says they’re en route and that Tony still isn’t breathing, and Maria starts speeding.  Howard calls her six minutes after that, and she jabs her finger against the dashboard to answer the call.  “Where the fuck have you been?” she shouts, switching lanes.

 

“Maria,” Howard says angrily, “I was in a meeting, I—”

 

“You fucking _liar_ ,” she seethes, and she doesn’t know why she’s letting this out now, knows only that she needs to release _something_ , “A meeting, really?  You think I’m that naïve, that I actually believe you have a meeting every fucking _day_?  I don’t care what her name is, but you tell her that you need to leave.”

 

“Maria—”

 

“Tony had a heart attack.  I’m on my way to the hospital,” she says, and Howard goes quiet.

 

There’s a long, trembling silence that’s broken by a soft voice, “Howie, what is it?”

 

“Howie?” Maria repeats, “How old is she?”

 

“Twenty-three,” Howard says, but his voice is uneven and soft.  “Maria,” he whispers, “Is he okay?”

 

“I don’t _know_ ,” Maria says, and she nearly breaks, but she just shakes her head once, takes a steadying breath, and grips the steering wheel tighter, “I need you.”

 

“I’ll be there.  Maria—it’s going to be okay,” he says, and Maria hangs up on him.

 

——

 

When Steve and Betty return to the waiting room, his parents are talking to a doctor, nodding quickly.  As they approach, Sara turns, smiling.  “She’s okay,” she says, and Steve tries to smile in return, but he can’t.  He feels like someone is pouring ice water through his veins, and he can’t quite catch his breath.

 

Betty squeezes his hand, pulling him along.  She keeps him going, runs her other hand over his arm when they stop by the girls, waiting.  Finally, Emma’s doctor finishes explaining what happened and says, “You can come see her, if you’d like.  She just woke up a few minutes ago.”

 

Steve looks over at Betty when she releases his hand.  “Go ahead,” she says, patting his arm, “I’ll be right here.”  Steve stalls, trying to speak and failing, so Betty gives him her best smile and says, “I’ll call you if I hear anything.”

 

“Okay,” he whispers, and then he’s being bombarded by Leah and Riley, who tug at him until he walks away with them.  He looks around, trying to digest that Emma is okay, that they’re going to see her, that she’s _awake_ , but his head feels thick, like it’s wrapped in too much gauze, water swimming in his ears.

 

“Steve,” Leah says, her voice hard, and he looks over, blinking at her.  “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, turning his gaze forward again.

 

They get to Emma’s room, and, for a second, everything dissolves because there she is, smiling weakly and waving, and they all rush to her, Sara petting her hair as they hug her each, and then, when the girls are sitting on the edge of her bed, listening to her chatter about how weird hospitals are, Joe takes Steve by the elbow and steers him out of the room.  “What’s wrong?” he asks once they’re in the hall, “Your sister just woke up, and she’s been going through god knows what, and you’ve barely smiled, Steve.”

 

“Tony,” is all he manages to say, looking up at his dad slowly.

 

“Did you have a fight?  Is that why he’s not here?  Well, get over it, okay?  Your sister needs your right now, and—”

 

“Dad,” Steve says, his voice cracking as something horrible rises up in him, threatens to pull him under.

 

“What?” Joe says, frowning, and then Steve’s splitting apart at the seams, shoulders hunching over as a broken sob is wrenched from him, and Joe quickly steps in, winding his arms around him.  “Steve, what’s wrong?” he says, rubbing his back as Steve cries, sagging against him.

 

“He—he had a—a heart attack,” Steve chokes out, holding onto his dad, “I don’t—know if he’s—if he’s _okay_.”

 

“When?” Joe demands, pulling away from Steve, holding him by the shoulders.

 

“Just before we found out about Emma,” Steve says, lifting one of his hands to wipe at his face, “He—he wasn’t feeling well, and I—I _left him_ , dad.”

 

“Hey, hey,” Joe soothes, embracing him again, “There’s no way you could have known that was going to happen.  Was someone with him?”

 

Steve nods, squeezing his eyes shut.  He’s trying not to imagine what it must have looked like, but all he can see is Tony slumped over, and he feels trapped, so he pushes away, stepping back from Joe.  “Oh god,” Steve says, lifting both hands to scrub away his tears, “I’m sorry, I know—I know we need to focus on Emma, I tried, I just—I’m so worried about him.”

 

“You should go to him,” Joe says, already reaching for the door to Emma’s room, “Go clean up, I’ll tell your mom, and then come back to say goodbye to Emma, okay?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Absolutely,” Joe says, pulling the door open and stepping in.

 

Steve lingers a moment before going off to find a bathroom, and, when he returns, Sara is waiting for him outside the room.  “Oh baby,” she says as he approaches, lifting her arms.  He hugs her, sighing as she rubs his back.  “Give him our love,” she says as they part, “I’ll keep you updated on Emma.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve says before they go in.

 

He spends some time with Emma, talking with her until she frowns and says, “Mommy said you have to leave.”

 

“Tony had an accident, and he’s in the hospital like you,” Steve says, and she gasps.

 

“An accident like last time?”

 

“No,” Steve says, “A lot like you, actually.  He’s sick right now.”

 

“Oh no,” she says sadly, “Is he going to be okay?”

 

“I’m gonna go find out, but probably,” Steve says, “Is it okay if I leave to see him?”

 

Emma nods quickly.  “Tell him I said hi,” she says, smiling.

 

“Of course,” Steve says, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, “Feel better, okay?  I’ll call mom to check up on you.”

 

“Bye, Steve, I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, Emmie bean,” he whispers before he leans away.  He hugs everyone goodbye, and then he heads back toward the waiting room, where Betty is sitting anxiously, legs bouncing up and down as she stares at her phone.  “Come on,” he says as he approaches her.

 

“What about your sister?” Betty asks, already standing.

 

“She’s okay,” he says, “Let’s go.”

 

Betty hurries to catch up to him, and then they’re gone.

 

——

 

Maria has been sitting in the waiting room for twenty minutes before Howard arrives.  She’s spent the entire time staring at her hands, her left thumb running over a scar that curves around the bottom of her right palm.  When Tony was five, he decided he wanted to learn how to bake, and they spent the entire winter in the kitchen, putting together every different recipe he could find, smearing flour over each other’s cheeks until they were both giggling.  Just before Christmas, while they were busy making massive amounts of desserts for the annual Christmas party, Tony had burned his hand and started screaming, and she’d been pulling a glass bowl out of one of the cabinets when she spun around, dropping the bowl.  It had shattered everywhere, and she’d been covered in awful, little cuts, but all of them had healed save for the one she didn’t notice, a piece of glass embedded in the bottom of her palm because she’d run to Tony, lifting him off of the counter and hurrying him over to the sink.  It’s the only scar she has because of him, and it’s the only one she doesn’t mind.

 

And so, when footsteps approach, Maria looks up and doesn’t move when she sees Howard.  He moves calmly, purposefully because he’s _Howard Stark_ , and he can’t be seen making a fuss, and she just despises the sight of him.

 

“You have lipstick on your jaw,” she says evenly, looking back down at her hand.  Howard quietly wipes it away before he sits next to her, reaching over, and Maria slaps his hand hard, leaning away from him.  “Don’t touch me,” she says.

 

“Maria—”

 

“Is that perfume?” she snaps, straightening and looking over at him, “You couldn’t even bother to change?”

 

“You said Anthony—”

 

“ _Tony_ ,” she seethes venomously, leaning in close as her eyes narrow, “His name is _Tony_.”

 

“His name is Anthony,” Howard says coolly, “Why you have to _bastardize_ it is beyond me.”  Maria sits straight again, looking back down at her hands.  “Maria,” Howard says softly, reaching again, and this time, her hand catches him across the face.

 

He roars to life, fingers snapping up to grasp her wrist, and Maria spits, “Hit me.  I _dare you_.”

 

Howard holds her fierce, furious gaze until someone clears their throat and says, “Mrs. Stark?”

 

Maria slips out of his grip easily, hurrying to her feet and over to Tony’s doctor.  “Is he okay?” she asks, fear flooding through her.

 

“He’s stable,” he says, “I can bring you back to see him, if you’d like.”

 

Maria nods quickly, not glancing back at Howard as she follows the doctor out of the waiting room and down the hall.  He talks while he walks, filling her in on what’s happened, “His friend managed to resuscitate him before we got there, and—”

 

“How is Bruce?”

 

“We let him crash in Tony’s room.  He was exhausted when we arrived at the school, so he’s asleep right now.”

 

“Good,” Maria says, “I’m glad he was there.”

 

“Indeed,” the doctor says, “If it wasn’t for him, Tony may not have made it.  He had a Type II myocardial infarction, so we’re closely monitoring his heart right now, and though it’s stable, it’s weak.  He’s been through an incredible trauma, which was only worsened by the arrhythmia and congenital heart defect, but we’ve taken measures to make sure he’s in a comfortable state.”

 

“What do you mean?” Maria asks, frowning as the doctor stops by a door.

 

He turns to her, sighing.  “He’s sedated, and we’d like to keep him that way until we’re sure he’s in the clear.  He’s already had one arrhythmia attack, and I’m concerned there may be a second, so I want to keep him as calm as possible just in case.”

 

“Okay,” Maria says, nodding, “I understand.  Is this him?”

 

“It is,” the doctor says, opening the door and letting them in.

 

Bruce is curled up in the corner, settled comfortably in one of the chairs.  Tony is in the bed, white sheets pooled in his lap, his head tilted toward the side, and he looks so soft and weary that a few tears slip past Maria’s defense as she goes to him.  “Il mio amore,” she whispers, carefully sitting on the edge of his bed and taking his hand.  She strokes her fingers over it, staring down at him.  “What has he been given?” she asks suddenly, looking back over.  Howard gives her a strange look, but she ignores him, instead listening while his doctor walks her through everything.  Finally, when all of her questions have been answered, the doctor excuses himself, and Howard frowns at her.  “Don’t speak to me,” she says when he opens his mouth.

 

“Maria—”

 

“I shouldn’t have called you,” she says quietly, turning back to Tony.

 

“Maria,” he says sternly.

 

“Please,” Maria says, not looking at him, “I need to be alone with my son.”  Howard remains a moment longer before he takes his leave, and Maria sighs, lifting Tony’s hand to kiss it.  “Oh baby,” she whispers, reaching up a hand to settle lightly against his chest, “I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW! I honestly totally forgot this chapter was next, and then I was getting ready to post, and I was like, OH MY GOD, THEY’RE GOING TO KILL ME. I’m so sorry! Don’t worry, though—like everything that Tony goes through, he’ll come out on the other side. This has actually been a really interesting journey for him, and I’ve had a lot of fun figuring everything out. Also, like I said, I’m going to be slowing updates down in the hopes that I can start writing again and not end up arriving at chapter fortyone and finding I have nothing left after that. I have two days off coming up this week, so hopefully I can spend some time writing then.
> 
> In other news, I’ve just finished all three seasons of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ , and I’m so sad that it’s over. I’m going to start _Legend of Korra_ next, but I’m just bummed out that Aang won’t be in it. It’s such an amazing show! Honestly, if you’ve never seen it, it’s far more intelligent than many of the shows I watch today, and it addresses so many more issues than many adult shows today. It’s incredible, truly.
> 
> For now, though, I’m a little tired, so I’m going to finish reading my chapter from _Freedom in Exile_ —I’ve finally started reading the Dalai Lama’s autobiography, and I’m only about twenty pages in, but it’s already amazing—and then I’m going to sleep because I have a long day tomorrow with inventory at work. I hope everyone is having a fantastic night, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	34. Chapter 34

When Bruce wakes, it’s to the door closing.  He blinks open his eyes blearily, looking around until he remembers where he is, and then he pushes upright, rubbing his eyes.  There’s a nurse by Tony’s bed, checking his vitals, and Maria is curled up in the chairs, watching him through tired eyes.  She waves when she sees Bruce move, though, and he returns the wave before stretching.  It’s a nicer hospital room than Bruce has ever seen, big and open, with comfortable chairs and large windows, and he wonders if this is what being a Stark means.

 

When the nurse is gone, Bruce says, “How is he?”

 

“Stable,” Maria says softly, not looking away from Tony, “Sedated.”

 

Bruce nods, standing and lifting his arms, leaning back until his spine pops, and then he sighs, rolling out his shoulders.  “Do you want anything?” he asks as he turns toward the door.

 

“No, thank you.”  Bruce starts to leave, and he’s just got the door open when Maria says, “Bruce.”

 

“Yeah?” he says, turning halfway so he can see her.

 

“Thank you for saving my son,” she says softly, looking over at him.

 

Bruce shrugs one shoulder.  “He’s my best friend,” he says, and Maria smiles.

 

When he’s gone, Maria sighs, reaching out a hand to take Tony’s in hers, running her fingers over his wrist and hand lightly.  “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Cher,” she whispers, staring up at his sleeping face.  She remains for a few minutes, just holding his hand, until she leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of it.  “I love you,” she murmurs against his skin before relaxing into her chair again, closing her eyes, her arm still outstretched.

 

Maria remembers the first time they’d come here, when Tony was a child.  He was three when he first started toddling around Howard’s lab, poking at things and climbing into places he didn’t belong.  She’ll never forget the sound of his giggle when Howard would stomp around the lab, his voice booming in the echoing room as he threatened Tony with tickles and raspberries.  Howard had always been so doting when Tony was younger, before he’d started school and been expected to work diligently toward his genius status.  Though usually away and busy, when he was home, Maria would always go looking for Tony to find him drawing in Howard’s office or covered in grease in his lab, sometimes sleeping beneath his desk or watching with an open mouth while Howard explained something to him, nodding along slowly.  Howard had been preoccupied with a car when she’d come down to bring them lunch, and she’d barely been through the door when Tony started screaming.  She’d never seen Howard move so fast, running across the room to where Tony was trapped in a tangle of wires, bleeding from a large gash on his leg.  He’d quickly untangled him while Maria hurried to get something to wrap his leg in, and they’d sat in those rickety waiting room chairs for an hour before they were allowed to see him, his little body in such a large bed.  He’d burst into tears the second they’d come in, and Maria had rushed over to soothe him while Howard watched on, letting out a sigh of relief.

 

She wonders where that Howard has gone, what happened that turned him so black.  Her marriage had begun to fall apart before Tony, but he’d always been so good with him in the beginning, for those first six years until he’d started to demand more and more out of Tony academically, and then they’d fallen apart, as well.

 

It’s not these thoughts that follow her into slumber, but Tony’s giggle and Howard’s thundering steps, and she falls asleep smiling.

 

Howard finds her this way, knocking quietly before he opens the door.  He’s changed, now dressed in dark jeans and an old shirt, his lab wear, and he’s carrying a bag over his shoulder.  He lingers by the door after it’s closed, staring over at Maria and Tony, and it’s a moment before he can come in further.

 

He sets the bag down by Maria and then carefully sits on the opposite side of Tony’s bed, reaching up a hand to brush the hair from his forehead, hand settling against his temple, thumb rubbing over his skin softly.  He looks so delicate like this, with dark circles under his eyes, a tube hooked over his ears, resting against his nose, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and Howard has to swallow past a lump in his throat as he sits back, hand dropping to his lap.

 

They’ve been here so many times, and he wonders if this is like the rest, if Tony tried to hurt himself yet again, or if life is just being cruel to him again, as it has too many times before.  He hates that he knows the hospital staff well enough to call them by their first names—though he never will—that they have their own specific room, that the sight of his son, broken and beaten down, is so familiar.

 

The door opens, and Howard looks over, frowning.

 

“Oh,” a young man says, stopping in the doorway, “Uh, sorry, I thought—yeah, um—never mind.”

 

He starts to go back out, but Howard says, “Bruce?”

 

“Yeah,” Bruce says, turning back toward him.

 

“Come in,” Howard says, and Bruce holds his gaze for a moment before obeying, stepping inside.

 

“Uh,” he says, lifting one of the cups of tea, “I brought this for Maria, but she’s asleep, so.”

 

He offers it, and Howard takes it, nodding.  “Thank you,” he says, and Bruce just nods shrugs, going over to sit in his chair.  They sit in silence for a few moments before Howard takes a small sip of his tea and then says, “We haven’t been properly introduced, but I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

“Yeah,” Bruce says, and he’s wearing a strange expression, “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, as well.”

 

Howard maintains his neutral expression, though he knows Tony well enough to know what he’s told Bruce.  “Thank you,” Howard says instead of the many other things he wants to, “For being there.”

 

“Of course,” Bruce says, and he starts to continue when he looks down, leaning over and pulling a phone from his pocket.  “Excuse me,” he says before he answers the call, “Hey, are you here?”  Howard watches him as he listens to the other line.  He stands abruptly, saying, “Yeah, I’ll be right there.  It’s still visiting hours, so I think you guys can come back.”

 

He starts to leave when Howard frowns and says, “Is someone here for Anthony?”

 

Bruce pauses at the door, and Howard sees his shoulders go tight a moment before he turns, his mouth a thin line.  “A couple of his friends,” he says, and Howard narrows his eyes at the lie, “Maria knows them.  Well,” he adds, and Howard sighs.

 

“Go on, then,” he says.

 

Bruce nods once before heading out, and Maria stirs when the door closes.  “Tony,” she mumbles, inhaling deeply before she opens her eyes, and she doesn’t move when she sees Howard, though her gaze flicks over him.  “You changed,” she says, and a small smile turns up her mouth.

  
“How are you?” Howard asks.

 

“Okay,” Maria says, slowly straightening.  She frowns, lifting a hand to her neck, and Howard immediately comes over, brushing her hand away before he rubs his fingers over her taught muscles.  “Where’s Bruce?” she asks.

 

“He went to show some of Tony’s friends back.”

 

“Oh good,” she says, head tipping forward.

 

“Do you know who it is?”

 

“Betty and Steve, probably,” she says, and then she realizes what that means, and she pulls away from Howard, looking up at him.  “Howard,” she says, fear flooding through her, “Please.  Don’t do anything rash.”

 

“What?” Howard says, brow furrowing in confusion.

 

“Steve and Tony are dating.”

 

“What?” he says again, his face transforming.

 

Maria quickly hurries out of her chair, grasping his arms as she pleads, “He’s so good to him, Howard.  They were friends first, but it’s been a long time coming, and I know you don’t approve, but I swear to god, if you do anything while Steve is here—Howard,” she says, fingers tightening, “He’s so good to him.  Tony needs him in his life.  _Please_.”

 

“Wait,” Howard says, frowning, “I thought—what about the other one?”

 

“Luke?” Maria says, mirroring his frown.  When Howard nods, she shakes her head, “No, he’s—he’s been gone for months.  I’ve told you about Steve.”

 

“Rogers?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh,” Howard says, and Maria watches in amazement as he deflates a little, the fury leaving his face.

 

“Oh?” she repeats, baffled, “Does that mean you’re not going to make a scene?”

 

“No,” Howard says before leaning down to press a kiss to Maria’s forehead.  “From what I’ve heard, Steve is a good influence in Anthony’s life.”  He steps around Maria and takes the seat next to her as she watches him, staring.  “Close your mouth, Maria,” he says sharply, and she does so, carefully sitting next to him.

 

She starts to say something when the door opens, and she watches it happen in slow motion.  Bruce comes in first, Betty behind him, and she gasps, grabbing Bruce’s hand as Steve steps in behind them.  His gaze darts briefly to Maria, he starts to rush forward, and then he sees Howard, and he quickly composes himself, lilting back onto the balls of his feet.  Betty looks over at him, frowning, and Bruce sighs.

 

“Dude, if he does anything, I’ll—fucking kill him,” Bruce says, and Maria drops her eyes, hiding her smile.

 

Steve takes that as his green light, and he takes quick strides across the room.  He’s already near tears by the time he reaches Tony, reaching for his hand before he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before he leans his against Tony’s, eyes sliding shut.  “Damn it, Tony,” he whispers, and then his defense is crumbling, a few, warm tears sliding down his cheeks.  He straightens away, wiping his face before he turns to Maria, “How is he?”

 

“He’ll be okay,” she says, nodding, “He’s strong.”

 

“Here,” Betty says as she pulls a chair up behind Steve.

 

“Thank you,” he says, tugging it closer before he drops down into it, kissing Tony’s hand before he pulls his knees up, and that’s how they spend their evening.

 

——

 

Eventually, Betty and Bruce take their leave, and Steve starts to go with them until Maria offers to drive him back to the school later, and he takes the offer gratefully, settling back in.  Around eleven, though, after Howard has spoken quietly with Tony’s doctor about Steve staying past visiting hours, Maria straightens and says, “Do you have class early?”

 

“At nine,” Steve murmurs, not opening his eyes.

 

“Come on, then.  I won’t have you missing classes while he’s doing nothing but sleeping.”

 

She starts to stand when Howard lays a hand over hers and says, “I’ll take him.  You rest.”  He leans over, kissing her cheek gently before he stands, and Maria just watches him go, unsure.

 

“I don’t mind,” she says, but Howard shakes his head.

 

“It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll pick up some of his things while I’m there.”

 

“Okay,” Maria says, relaxing again, “Be good.”

 

Steve glances over at Maria, who nods, and he sighs before standing, leaning down to kiss Tony’s forehead before he whispers his goodbye and promises to be back.  He leaves with Howard, and they walk quietly down the hall and toward the back entrance.  They don’t speak until they’re on the road, and then Howard says, “Relax.  I’m not driving you back so I have the opportunity to convince you not to date my son.”

 

“I find that hard to believe,” Steve says, and Howard is impressed by the hard edge to his voice.

 

“I understand,” Howard says, “Still, I have no intention of persuading you against your current course of action.”

 

“But will you try to persuade Tony later?”  Howard sighs, opening his mouth, but Steve continues, “If you lay a hand on him, nothing will stop me from reporting you to the police for abuse.  I stood by last time, and I will never forgive myself for that.  He’s my best friend, and I won’t let you hurt him again.”

 

Howard smiles lightly, glancing over at Steve.  “Good,” he says, and Steve’s jaw goes slack as he stares at him in confusion.  “He deserves someone strong,” Howard says, “Someone who can take a punch and throw it right back.  While I do not approve of Anthony’s choice in sexual partner, I understand the difference between you and Luke.”

 

“Luke,” Steve repeats, frowning, “What does Luke have to do with anything?”

 

Howard’s jaw goes tight as he thinks about Maria’s loud hatred of Luke, little things she let slip out before she realized what she was saying.  “He hurt Anthony more times than I like to admit I am aware of,” Howard says slowly, “He was poisonous, and I won’t stand for it again.”

 

“You beat him,” Steve says, and it’s not what Howard is expecting him to say.  He’s so used to Maria, who addresses every issue with a threat, but this is a quiet accusation, and it almost hurts more.  “I don’t care what you have to say to yourself to make that right,” Steve says, not looking at him, “I don’t care if you think you have some justification for _hitting_ your son.  I don’t care if you think that you were doing Tony a favor, showing Luke just how dangerous you could be.  I don’t _care_ what you think.  If you come near him again with a raised hand or a foot or a belt or whatever the hell it is, _I_ won’t stand for it.  I can take a lot, and I give back even harder.”

 

“I appreciate your commitment to him,” Howard says.

 

The rest of their drive passes in silence, though it’s only twenty minutes from the school, until they get to the dorm, and Steve says, “I can get his things for you.”  Howard nods, following Steve out of the car and into the dorm.  When they get into their room, he looks away from the two beds pushed together and instead goes to Tony’s desk, looking through his current work.

 

Steve moves around the room quickly, packing things away in Tony’s bag, and Howard watches on curiously.  Steve stops by the desk, opening one of the drawers, and Howard sighs when he sees the amount of pill bottles inside.  Steve picks out the diuretics, anticoagulants, Xanax, and Ativan, as well as his inhaler, and then he goes over to his dresser, taking out clothes.  He grabs a few books, one of his tablets, a set of earphones and headphones, wrapped around his modified iPod, and then one of his own sweatshirts, stuffing it in before he closes it up.  He hands it over to Howard, saying, “Please tell Maria to call me if anything changes.  I’ll come by after class tomorrow.”

 

“Of course,” Howard says, taking the bag, “Thank you, Steve.”

 

Steve just nods, and Howard takes his leave quietly.  When he’s gone, Steve gathers his things for a shower, and then heads down the hall.  When he gets back into the room, after he’s dried and dressed, he starts to climb into bed, and then sighs, going back over to their dressers.  He takes out one of Tony’s shirts, one that he always wears while he’s working, so it’s got grease stains and holes around the hem, and it’s old and too big for him, but it smells like him, so Steve pulls it over his head.

 

He hunkers down in bed, drawing the blankets up over his shoulders before he plugs in his phone and then dials Tony on facetime.  Maria answers it, smiling.  “He told me this was one of his favorite things about you,” she says as she brings the phone over, resting it next to Tony’s head so Steve can see him.  He smiles, squishing his own phone into his pillows—he’s lying on Tony’s side, nose buried in his pillow, trying to pretend he’s right next to him—so that it stays upright.

 

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

 

Maria obscures his view for a moment as she presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead before she says, “Goodnight, darling.  Goodnight, Steve.”

 

Steve yawns as Maria leaves the view of the phone again, and he thinks he mumbles a goodnight to Tony before sleep takes him, and the last thing he sees is Tony’s soft slumber.

 

——

 

They start taking shifts after the second day.  Howard offers to drive Maria back, but she just kisses him and then takes a few moments with Tony, temples pressed together as she memorizes the rhythm of his breaths.  “I love you,” she whispers, kissing his forehead.  She leaves after, taking her car back to the mansion, and, when she steps inside, she aches with how empty it is.  She used to not having Tony around, but this is a different kind of silence, and it makes her skin crawl, so she quickly goes upstairs, making for her room.

 

Once inside, Maria showers, taking her time, letting the hot water run over her as she tries to block out the image of her baby lying in a hospital bed, _again_.  It doesn’t work for long, and then she’s drying off, dressing, and going downstairs to make something to eat.  When she’s feeling a little better, she goes up to the third floor and curls up in Tony’s bed, willing sleep to take her.

 

Maria only gets a few hours before she can’t stand tossing and turning anymore, being too far from Tony, and so she makes her way back to the hospital.  When she arrives, Howard frowns, looking up from his tablet.  “Maria, you need to rest,” he sighs, “You’re no good to him exhausted.”

 

“I can’t stay in that house knowing he might wake up without me,” she says, setting her bag down and coming back around to sit in her chair.  “I’ll sleep here,” she says, getting comfortable, “You should go to work.  I’ll call you if anything changes.”

 

“I’m not leaving,” Howard says, taking one of her hands, “Not until he wakes up.”

 

Maria looks over at him, her eyes wide.  “Okay,” she says, nodding, and Howard kisses her hand before turning back to his tablet.  Maria falls asleep to the sound of his fingers tapping softly over it, the quiet hum of the machines a terrible lullaby.

 

——

 

The sun is high and filling the room in a warm, golden glow when Tony wakes up.  He recognizes the soft, slow beat of his heart first, understands he’s in the hospital before he starts to stir, a low groan slipping out of him as he turns his head, eyes rolling under the lids.

 

“Anthony?” he hears, and it doesn’t make sense.

 

A large, callused hand closes around one of his own, and he forces his eyes open, blinking heavily as he tries to focus.  “Dad?” he mumbles when he sees a blurry image of a man.

 

“Hey,” Howard says softly, the bed dipping as he sits on the edge of it, his other hand coming up to thread through Tony’s hair.

 

Tony lets out another soft groan, and Howard starts to rise, but Tony squeezes his hand as best as he can.  “I’m okay,” he says, and Howard settles again.

 

He finally manages to get his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling, and he collects himself before he looks over, frowning when he finds Howard watching him with concern.

 

“Mamma?” he asks.

 

“She’s sleeping,” Howard says, though he turns away, reaching back.  “Maria,” he says, shaking her knee.  She jerks awake, looking over at him in confusion for a moment before she remembers, and then she jumps to her feet, hurrying over.

 

“Tony,” she gasps out, hands coming up to cradle his face, “Oh baby, you’re okay.”

 

“Mamma,” he whispers, his lower lip trembling, and she quickly leans forward, pressing a kiss to his temple.

 

“You’re okay, darling, you’re okay.”

 

“What happened?” he mumbles, gaze flicking to Howard as he stands, easing Maria down onto the bed.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, kissing her hair before he makes his way around the bed to the door.

 

“You had a heart attack,” Maria says, taking Tony’s hand and running her fingers over the inside of his wrist.  “You need to be honest with me,” she says, and Tony nods, already knowing what’s coming, “Were you on anything?”

 

“Just my meds,” he says, “I promise.  I didn’t—” he breaks off, closing his eyes as he takes a steadying breath.

 

“Are you dizzy?” Maria asks, and he nods.  She shifts, reaching for the water at the end of his bed.  She pours him a glass, sticking a straw in, and then helps him drink.

 

“Thank you,” he says when she sits back again.  He offers her a small smile before he continues, “I haven’t taken anything in a while, not since—not since last semester, I think.  I’ve been trying to be good for Steve.  I don’t—mamma, I don’t want to anymore.”

 

“Nothing?” she says, and he almost laughs at how disbelieving she sounds.

 

“Well,” he says, smiling again, “I still get high and drink sometimes, and I’ve smoked a few times here and there, but nothing hard, and I’m not getting wasted anymore, just—I’m in control.”

 

“Promise me it’s over.  Tony, if you—if I lose you because you’re reckless and your heart gives out, I don’t know what I’ll do.  You have to stop.  No more.”

 

“No more,” he repeats, nodding, “I promise.  I’ll get clean, no hard drugs.”

 

“You’re really not going to promise me you won’t get high or drink?” Maria says.

 

Tony sighs, “Mamma.  I told you, I’m in control.  I won’t let it get out of hand.”

 

“Stop drinking,” she says, “That’s my compromise.”

 

Tony holds her gaze for a few moments before letting out heavy breath and leaning back into his pillows, looking up at the ceiling.  “At all?” he asks.

 

“At all,” Maria says, “No more alcohol.  I don’t care if you get high.  I still do, so I think that might be a little hypocritical, but please.  Stop drinking.”

 

It takes a few moments, but then Tony looks at her and says, “Okay.  You too.  That’s my compromise,” he adds when she starts to object.

 

“Tony, I—”

 

“I have every reason to drink that you do,” he says, “If you expect me to get sober, then lead by example.  You know what, while we’re at it, no more prescription abuse.  I’m dumping it—Abilify, Ativan, Xanax, and Ritalin.  It’s gone, and so is whatever the hell you’ve got stashed at home.”  Maria makes a face, and Tony sighs.  “What?”

 

“Sweetheart,” she says, looking down at his hand, “Some of those are correct sometimes.”

 

“Sometimes,” Tony says.  The door opens, but neither of them look over.  “I can handle it during the off days.”

 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Maria says as Tony’s doctor comes over.

 

He chats with them for a while, going over after care procedure after he’s finished checking Tony’s vitals and setting him up for being mobile while he’s still in the hospital, and then he lets them know that they’ll be free to go tomorrow, once they’re sure that Tony is ready to leave.

 

When he’s gone, Maria and Tony return to their previous conversation, and they iron out all the details, Howard adding his own opinion in quietly, and then it’s settled.  The Ritalin’s going, but everything else stays just in case.  And then, when all is said and done, Tony says, “What time is it?”

 

Howard checks his watch.  “Almost one, why?”

 

“Do you have my phone?”

 

“Yeah,” Maria says, reaching over for his bag and opening it up, “Steve?”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Tony says, holding out a hand, though he glances over at Howard when Maria drops it into his hand.

 

“It’s okay,” Howard says, nodding once, “I know.”

 

“You do?” Tony repeats, eyebrows shooting up.

 

“Though I don’t agree, I understand.  Are you hungry?”

 

“Yeah, actually,” Tony says, smiling, “Thank you.”  Howard actually smiles in return, and Tony watches him go, amazed.  When he’s gone, he turns to Maria, gaping.  “Che diavolo?  **(What the hell?)** ”

 

“He’s trying,” Maria says, smiling as she rubs a hand over Tony’s knee before settling back in her chair, “He and Steve actually met and spoke the other day.  He drove him back to the school, said he’s impressed with him.”

 

“ _My_ father said that?  Are you sure?”

 

“I’m sure,” Maria says, reaching for her bag and pulling a book out, “Call Steve.”

 

Tony nods slowly, though he lingers a moment longer before tapping into his contacts and dialing Steve on facetime.  Steve’s not looking when he answers, and Tony recognizes the campus around him as he walks.  “Hey Maria, I’m on my way to class, but I’ll head over after, I just—”

 

“Hey handsome,” Tony says, and Steve jerks to a stop, looking at the phone.

 

“Tony,” he says breathlessly, “You’re awake.”

 

“Just recently,” Tony says, “How long is your class?”

 

“I’m skipping,” Steve says, already turning around.

 

“No,” Tony protests, “I’m probably gonna nap after I eat, so it’s pointless for you to come right now.  Go to class, and come visit after.”

 

“Tony.”

 

“Stephen,” Tony snaps back, and Steve sighs, trying to contain a smile, but Tony sees it anyway, and he goes on, “I miss you, shoulders.”

 

“God, I miss you, too,” Steve says, and there’s a moment of silence before he turns around again, “Okay, I’m going to class, I’ll be out at four, and then I’m coming over.  Want me to bring Betty and Bruce?”

 

“Nah, I’m getting out tomorrow, and I wanna stop by the school, so I’ll see them, then.  Hey, my mom said you met my dad?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, shrugging, “It was—interesting, I think.  I’ll tell you about it later.  Listen, I gotta go, I’m almost at my class.  I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”  Tony blows him a kiss, and Steve just grins and returns it before he hangs up.

 

Howard returns a few minutes later, and they spend some time as a family eating and talking before Tony’s yawning and claiming he wants to nap, and so they drift off into quiet as he settles back into his bed.  Maria convinces Howard to go home and get some rest, so he leaves them around three.  Tony sleeps until about four thirty, and then he’s complaining about having to pee, so Maria helps him up, and they get him out of bed carefully.  He takes a moment to get his bearings once he’s on his feet, and Maria just rubs his back and whispers soothingly to him until his head stops spinning, and then they make their way over to the bathroom.

 

Once that’s done, he asks for clothes because he’s sick of wearing the hospital gown, so they get him changed into a pair of pants, and then Maria starts for the door to call for a doctor, but Tony just unclips the heart monitor and shrugs into his shirt.  “Tony,” she says when she hears him flat line, “Sul serio?  **(Seriously?)** ”

 

“Che cosa?” he mutters, clipping it back on, “They already took the IV out, I’m fine.”

 

“You’re something alright,” she says, shaking her head as she comes back over.

 

A nurse comes rushing in moments later, sighs when she sees Tony sitting cross-legged in bed, and comes over to check to make sure he’s okay.  When she’s gone, Tony turns to Maria and says, “Think you can convince them to let me go early?  I don’t want to sleep here again.”

 

“Tony, you had—”

 

“I was there,” he cuts her off, “Mamma, per favore.”

 

She holds his gaze for a few moments before nodding and standing.  “I’ll go find your doctor,” she says.

 

She’s been gone barely five minutes before there’s a knock on his door.  It opens, and he looks over, mouth sliding into a wide beam when Steve steps in.  “Hey,” he says, and Steve hurries over.

 

Tony tilts his head up even as Steve reaches down for him, kissing him hard before he’s winding his arms around him and hugging him, burying his face in Tony’s neck.  “Don’t ever do that to me again,” he says, his voice muffled.  Tony laughs, closing his eyes as he breathes Steve in, lets it settle in his bones that he’s home again, that he’s back, and he thinks he’ll be okay.

 

——

 

Not long after Steve arrives, Tony starts complaining about wanting to leave.  Steve talks him down while Maria goes to find his doctor.

 

“What do you have against hospitals?” Steve asks as Tony starts rifling through the homework Steve has brought him.

 

“Did you bring my laptop?” Tony asks, grinning when Steve reaches for his backpack.  “You’re the best,” he says, and Steve just rolls his eyes.

 

“Stop avoiding the question,” Steve says.

 

Tony opens his laptop as he talks, “It’s like a second home in the worst way possible.  They know to call me Tony rather than Anthony.  They know better than to _ever_ argue with my father.  I’m famous in hospital circles, the boy who keeps dying.  Oh my _god_ , that’s obnoxious.”

 

“What?”

 

“Forty emails, _Jesus_.  You’d think I was gone for a month.  Hey, have you started studying for the French final?”

 

“A little.  Are you coming back to school?”

 

“Hopefully.  Got a lot to catch up on, but it shouldn’t take too long.  What’s today?”

 

“Thursday.”

 

“I’ll be back Monday.  _Mamma_ ,” he ends in a whine when the door opens, but it’s Howard that comes in.  “Father,” he amends, “I didn’t think you were returning.”

 

“How are you feeling?” Howard asks as he comes over.

 

“Better,” Tony says, “Tired.”

 

“Homework?” Howard asks, lifting one of Tony’s books, “Comment avez-vous apprécié français ce semestre? **(How have you enjoyed French this semester?)** ”

 

“C'est très agréable—un de mes langues préférées. Je pensais Russie l'année prochaine.  **(It’s lovely—one of my favorite languages.  I was thinking about Russian next year.)** ”

 

“Изысканный язык, тот, который вы только кратко изучены, однако.  **(An exquisite language, one you only studied briefly, though.)** ”

 

“Гений.  Я учусь довольно быстро.  **(Genius.  I learn rather quickly.)** ”

 

“Ваши потребности акцент работать.  **(Your accent needs work.)**   Where is your mother?”

 

“Trying to sneak us out,” he says, grinning.

 

Howard sighs, though he’s smiling when he says, “ _Tony_.”  Tony shrugs, holding his breath as he waits, hopeful.  “I’m going to go find her,” Howard says, hand coming up to thread through Tony’s hair, thumb stroking over his temple before he says, “Be good.”

 

He turns away, then, taking his leave, and it’s not until he’s gone that Steve slaps the bed as Tony lets out his breath, sinking back into his pillows.  “Dude, what the hell?” Steve demands.

 

“How old am I?” Tony asks, looking over.

 

“How old do you feel?”

 

“Six, maybe.  I can’t remember the last time he called me Tony.  He’s just been in a constant state of disappointment since I left boarding school.”

 

“ _Of course_ you went to boarding school.”

 

“Only for two years,” Tony defends, “I kept acting out because I missed my mom, so they transferred me to a private school when I was nine.”

 

“You’re such a momma’s boy, _wow_.”

 

“Oh, and you’re not?” Tony accuses, reaching over to smack Steve, who leans out of the way, and then leans back to ask for a kiss.  Tony meets him gladly, humming when they part.

 

The door opens again, admitting Tony’s parents and doctor.  Though he makes his disagreement in letting Tony go home early known, his doctor gets him ready to leave, discussing after care and setting up a check-in for Sunday.  He makes a point to mention that there’s to be no sexual activity _at all_ for the next four weeks, which Tony makes a face at.  After he’s done, though, they’re free to go.  Maria coaxes Howard out to bring her car around, and then she starts packing up their things.

 

“I’ll try to stop by tomorrow,” Tony says quietly, and Steve nods.  “I need to get some clothes and the rest of my homework, but I’ll try to come when you’re not in class.”

 

“I’ll let Betty and Bruce know.  Call me later, okay?”

 

“Yeah, absolutely.”

 

He holds up his arms, and Steve smiles, stepping in to hug him tightly.  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Steve murmurs before they part.

 

“Have faith in me,” Tony says, tugging at him until he can kiss him.

 

After, Steve leaves, and Maria shoulders Tony’s backpack and then her bag before coming around to help him out of bed.  He leans heavily against her, and Maria sighs, pressing a kiss to his hair as she winds an arm around him.  “We can still use the wheelchair,” she says, indicating the one Tony’s doctor brought.

 

“I’m not an invalid,” Tony mutters, letting Maria help him across the room until the door opens again to reveal Howard.

 

“Tony,” he sighs, reaching for the wheelchair.

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tony says, but Howard still opens it and reaches over, holding out a hand.

 

It’s the gesture that convinces Tony to obey, and he takes his father’s hand, letting his parents ease him into the wheelchair.  Howard takes the bags from Maria, letting her push Tony out of the room, and they make their way down the hall toward the exit.  Maria helps him to the car, and then they’re on their way home.

 

Maria arrives first, and she’s collecting Tony’s things when Howard pulls up.  “Is he okay?” he asks because Tony is nowhere to be seen.

 

“He’s asleep,” she says, “Can you take his things up, and I’ll wake him up?”

 

“I can take him,” Howard says, already going around the car.

 

“Howard—”

 

“It’s fine.  I used to when he was little,” he adds quietly, opening the passenger door and reaching inside.  He carefully gathers Tony in his arms, lifting him up out of the car and holding him snug against him.  Tony stirs, mumbling something incomprehensible as his head lolls in against Howard, and, for a brief second, he feels like he’s carrying his four-year-old son back up from a beach trip Maria actually managed to convince him to go on.

 

Maria leads the way, holding the door open and taking the stairs with him, occasionally glancing over to be sure Tony is still okay.  When they reach his room, she pulls back the blankets on his bed, and Howard sets him down, sitting after to take off his shoes while Maria puts his things away.

 

“Mamma,” Tony murmurs, his eyes heavy as he slowly opens them.

 

“Sono dritto qui, Tesoro, **(I’m right here, sweetie.)** ” Maria says, coming over and sitting next to him, stroking his hair back, “Stai bene?   **(Are you okay?)** ”

 

“Sore,” he says, and Maria sighs, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

 

“Vuoi che massaggiare il petto?  **(Do you want me to massage your chest?)** ”

 

He nods, and she just smiles and gets comfortable, stretching out her fingers before she carefully soothes them over his chest.  Tony’s eyes flutter shut again, and he relaxes into his bed, just enjoying her soft touches.

 

“I need to spend some time in my office,” Howard says as he stands.

 

“Okay,” Maria says, looking up at him, “Thank you for helping with him.”

 

Howard nods, and then lingers for a moment until Maria smiles and takes one of her hands from Tony, reaching for him.  She tugs him down, and he goes, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.  “Let the cooks know we’re home.  It’ll be time for dinner soon.”

 

“Of course,” Howard says as he straightens.  Maria turns back to Tony, and Howard pauses at the door, fingers curled around the knob.  He looks back, taking in his beautiful wife whispering softly to his amazing son, and he frowns.  He knows he hasn’t been good to them, knows they’re both likely baffled by his behavior, and he makes a note to try to change that so that they’ll expect this of him more often.

 

When he leaves, though, Maria straightens, listening to his steps, and then she says, “Se n'è andato.  **(He’s gone.)** ”

 

Tony breaks, a tremor rolling through him even as he pushes up off the bed and reaches for her, hiding his tears in her chest.  “I was so scared,” he whispers as Maria holds him tightly, “I didn’t know what was happening.  All I could hear was Bruce counting, and I don’t even know how I could, but it was his voice, and then it was yours somehow, and I thought I was going to die, I was so scared, and—” he breaks off as a sob shudders through him.

 

“You’re okay, Tony,” she whispers, rubbing his back, “I’ve got you.  I’m here.”

 

“ _Mamma_ ,” he chokes, and Maria closes her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently exhausted and I really need to get to bed, so I’m going to keep this short. I still haven’t done anymore writing for this. I have, however, been doing quite a bit for my books, so that’s still progress for me. Work is absolutely killing me. I’m just not used to the forty hour weeks, and I feel like all I do is wake up, go to work until late at night, come back and pass out, and then repeat. I have the worst shifts, they suck. But I get to come home to my adorable ladies, who are currently beating each other up in their new tower, so that’s a plus. My sister and I went to Rockport the other day, too, our first visit of the summer season, and I got some amazing new things for my altar. It was a beautiful day. Also, hey, if you like Owl City, check out his new EP, which just came out today! So far, it’s amazing—I can’t wait for the new album! And, oh man, _Transformers: Age of Extinction_ comes out tomorrow, AND I’M GOING.
> 
> As for this chapter, I’m sorry. At least Tony’s okay! For the most part, I mean. The poor kid, I don’t know why I keep doing these things to him. I promise, though, he’s in the clear for a while after this. My next bit of drama happens with Steve, though I refuse to spoil that because I’m having a lot of fun with it. A lot of you have been commenting on my evil cliffhangers, and I just wanted you all to know that I cackle every time I write a cliffhanger and then read the reactions. I’m awful—I end my books in cliffhangers, too. It’s too much fun!
> 
> Anyway, I said I was going to make this short and then I didn’t. I hope everyone is having a lovely night, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	35. Chapter 35

The next few days are hard.  Maria drives Tony out to the school the next day to make the rounds with his professors and collect his homework, though many of them keep him for a while, asking after his absence, and then, after his health.  By the time they’re finished, he’s exhausted, and Maria holds out her arm, letting Tony loop his through hers, leaning on her.  When they eventually make it back to the dorms, Betty and Bruce are back, and he stops off to see them, chatting for a bit, though they both seem to notice how weary he is, and they send him on his way before long.  And then, by the time they get to his room, he just wants to nap.  Maria offers to disappear downtown for a couple hours so he can spend some time with Steve, and he hugs her tightly before she leaves him at his door.

 

When he gets inside, Steve’s sitting on his bed, knees pulled up and sketchpad resting against his thighs, though his head is tipped back against the wall.  He looks up when the door opens, smiling when he sees Tony.  “Hey,” he says softly, and that’s when he notices Maria isn’t with him.  He starts to get up to help Tony, who’s walking slowly over to him, but Tony waves a hand dismissively at him.

 

“She went downtown for a bit,” he says, climbing onto the bed and curling up, “But I’m falling asleep on my feet.  Lay with me?”

 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks as he puts his sketchpad away on his desk.

 

“Mhm,” Tony murmurs, watching him, and then, “Did you move your desk?”

 

“It was driving me nuts over there,” Steve admits, “I put both the dressers over there.  Is that okay?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t care,” Tony says, stretching out and reaching for Steve, “Do you mind if I nap?”

 

“As long as you’re here, I don’t care,” Steve says, pulling Tony against him and kissing his forehead, “Sleep.  I’ve got you.”

 

Tony drifts off in the warm circle of Steve’s arms, and Steve dozes to the sound of his breaths, falling evenly together.  He’s happy enough just to have Tony back, to know that he’s okay, and he thinks he even falls asleep because, before he realizes it, someone’s knocking on the door, and Maria comes in as he’s blinking back to consciousness and looking over.  He waves before disentangling himself from Tony, who makes a soft noise and tries to burrow close, but Steve slips out from under him and goes to help Maria pack things for the weekend.

 

The weekend itself is a little better, though Tony spends most of it in Maria’s studio, curled up on his futon, wading through his homework.  Maria’s working on new additions for the gallery, and she’s hoping to do another show this coming winter break, so Tony spends some time listening to her ramble on and discuss the new ideas she’s having.

 

By the time Sunday comes around, he’s still a little weak when they get to the hospital for his check-up, though they let him know that’s perfectly normal, and as long as he continues to take care of himself, he’ll be fine again before long.  And then, a few hours before dinner, Maria gets ready to take Tony, and Howard offers to come along, so they drive him up together, take his things back to the room, and then, to everyone’s surprise, Howard says they should all go out to dinner, Steve included, and so that’s settled.

 

The next two weeks pass by relatively normally, and then winter break is looming up on them.

 

——

 

His fourth day home, Tony’s phone starts ringing while he’s trying to do yoga in the Maria’s studio, and he sighs, reaching for it and answering it without looking, putting it on speaker.  “Hello?”

 

“Dude, what the _fuck_?”

 

Tony looks up at the caller id as Maria looks over at him, eyebrows going up.  “Johnny?” Tony says unsurely.

 

“Oh good, you still know who I am.  _Tony_.”

 

“Johnny,” Tony says again, “What’s up?”

 

“ _Well_ , I just got back from Thor’s, and he asked me if I’d talked to you recently because you’d had a _heart attack_.  What the hell, man?  Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I tried calling you last week, asshole, where have you been?”

 

“Oh,” Johnny says.

 

Tony sighs and shifts until he’s sitting, picking his phone up and taking it off speaker.  “Is everything okay?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, just—my sister has been in and out of the hospital.  She’s okay, but it’s been a rough month.  Are you busy?”

 

“No, wanna come over?  I can text you my address.”

 

“Yeah, that’d be nice.  I’ll, uh—I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

 

They hang up, and Tony starts to text him when Maria says, “Are you cheating on Steve?”

 

“What?” Tony exclaims, gaping at her, “ _No_.  Why would you say that?”

 

“Your ex is on his way over,” Maria says, “It’s a little suspicious.  I know you ended on good terms and are still friends, but is Steve okay with that?”

 

“Yes.”

  
“Have you talked to him about it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Tony.”

 

“Mamma, we have,” Tony says, moving back into his previous pose, “They’re still friends, and he knows that neither of us has any interest in ruining what we have, with each other and with our boyfriends.  Mamma, Steve means more to me than I could ever even imagine.  He’s my best friend, and I—” Tony breaks off coming quickly out of camel.

 

“Tony,” Maria says slowly.

 

“Oh no.”

 

“Tony.”

 

“Nope,” he says, getting up to do split stretches, “New topic.  We’re not talking about this.  How’s the new show coming?

 

Maria sighs, but takes the bait, telling him about the new pieces she’s been working on.  They talk until Johnny arrives, and then Tony goes to let him in, promising to bring him back to introduce them.  When he opens the door, Johnny sighs and pulls Tony against him.  “I hate you,” he mutters as he hugs Tony tightly.

 

“You don’t,” Tony says cheekily, so Johnny pinches him as he steps back.  Tony swats at him before turning away, and Johnny follows him into the mansion and to the left.  “My mom wants to meet you, “he says.  When they enter the studio, Maria is sitting on top of a small shelving unit, glaring at the painting she’s working on.  Tony laughs and says, “Fatto esso dire qualcosa di offensivo?  ( **Did it say something offensive?)** ”

 

“Esso vuole a.  ( **It wants to.)** ”

 

Tony is quiet for a few moments, watching her, and then says, “Mamma, this is Johnny.”

 

“Oh yes!” she exclaims, clambering down, “I’ve been so curious.  Oh, look at that, handsome.”  Maria winks at Tony, who grins.  She shakes hands with Johnny, smiling, and then she turns to Tony.  “Be good.  Sara and I have already started planning your wedding.”

 

“You’re trouble,” Tony says before he kisses her cheek and then leads Johnny out.

 

They go upstairs, and Johnny whistles when they get to his room.  “Jesus, Tony, this place is huge,” he says, jumping onto his bed, “Why did we never come here over spring break?”

 

“Abusive father, remember?”

 

Johnny grunts, patting the bed next to him.  Tony climbs on, stretching out on his back so their shoulders are touching.  “Talk to me, man.  What’s going on?” Johnny asks.

 

He misses this, having him around.  He’s always felt so at ease with him, like he could tell him anything, and it feels good to have a friend he’s not sleeping with again.  He hasn’t spent any time with Rhodey lately, either, and he makes a note to call him later.

 

“I mean, I had a heart attack,” Tony says, shrugging, “Pretty fucking spectacular experience, really.  I hadn’t been feeling well the whole weekend, had this migraine that wouldn’t go away, and then Emma, Steve’s little sister, was rushed to the hospital for a virus, so he left.  I stayed behind because I could barely walk, and Bruce came in to look after me, and it just—it just happened.  I remember going into the bathroom to throw up, I remember Bruce being there, I remember my chest getting tight and hot, and it didn’t hurt at first until I heard Bruce counting, and then I realized what was going on, and I passed out.  I woke up in the hospital.”

 

“Damn,” Johnny says, reaching for Tony’s hand and tangling their fingers together, “I’m sorry.  How long were you there?”

 

“A few days.  I was sedated for a while, and then woke up on the second day, I think, went home the day after.  Spent the weekend at home, and then went back to school for the last two weeks to catch up on everything and take my finals.  It’s better now, though.  It’s been just over three weeks since then, though I haven’t been able to have sex since it happened, which fucking sucks.”

 

“Are you allowed to jerk off?” Johnny asks, looking over.

 

“No,” Tony groans, “I am going out of my mind, man.  I still have another week left, too.”

 

“Jesus, that must be fun.  Speaking of, how’s Steve?”

 

“Amazing,” Tony says, leaning his head against Johnny’s shoulder as he smiles, “He’s incredible, he really is.  I never feel like I have to hold back from him, I can just tell him anything I want, and even when he gets all high and mighty, I don’t care because I know he’s got my back.  I’m in love with my best friend, and I just said that out loud,” he finishes abruptly, sitting up.  He looks over his shoulder at Johnny, who’s grinning.  “Don’t do that,” Tony says, smacking him, “Don’t do that, it makes me think it’s okay.”

 

“It is okay,” Johnny says, shifting over onto his side.  He waits until Tony lies down again, on his back, looking over at him, before he continues, “Dude, you’ve been falling for him for a long time.  I mean, I know you kind of fell for me, I could tell, and I did, too, but there was always Steve, there always has been.  You’ve got it bad for him.”

 

Tony groans, covering his face.  “What do I do?” he mumbles.

 

“Tell him?” Johnny says.

 

Tony guffaws, hands sliding up into his hair.  “Yeah, okay.”

 

“I’m serious, Tony,” Johnny says, punching him lightly in the side.

 

Tony whines, flinching away before he drops his hands again and looks over at him, and then he sees it.  “You love Peter,” he says, jaw dropping open.

 

“Tony—”

 

“You fucking do!” he exclaims, hitting Johnny’s chest, “Shut up, since when?”

 

“I may have fibbed a little about when I met him.”

 

“You ass monkey,” Tony says, grinning widely, “When did you meet him?”

 

“Right before I left for California in June,” Johnny says, shrugging one shoulder, “We spent a mind-blowing week together, and I invited him out to California with me, and he fucking came, I couldn’t believe it.  We took my car and road tripped it, man, and I’m so madly in love with him.  I don’t even know what to do with myself sometimes when he’s just there, and he’s mine, and I can just fucking kiss him whenever I want.  Dude, I got it so bad, and he knows it, and I think he might love me, too.”

 

“Really?” Tony says, “Johnny, that’s fantastic.  Have you told him?”

 

“Not yet.  I was thinking about it.”

 

“Wait,” Tony says, “That means—you asshole, you were with him when we slept together in September?”

 

“He was totally chill about it, actually,” Johnny says, “I’d told him all about you while we were in California, and then when school was coming back around, he was the one to approach me about it, said that if I wanted to have one last fling with you, he understood.  I figured the universe was paying me back for being chill about it with you and the super couple.  You can’t get away that easy, though.  I know you, dickhead, I know you’re avoiding the subject.  Do you love Steve?”

 

“I might,” Tony says without thinking, and then lets out a breath, biting his lip as he looks at Johnny.  “Oh no.”

 

“Not oh no, oh _yes_ ,” Johnny says, reaching for his hand again and squeezing it, “This is the good stuff, man.  Don’t worry about it.  Don’t try to figure out if he loves you in return, just let it happen, man, and if it comes out, then oh well, it’s out, and at least he knows.  Don’t rush it.  Oh _yes_.”

 

“Oh yes?” Tony repeats, and they both start laughing after a moment.

 

“Fuck you,” Johnny says, giving him a shove.

 

Tony just keeps laughing, curling in on himself as Johnny shakes his head.

 

——

 

“Just in time,” Bruce says as he drops into the passenger seat, “My dad’s waving around his double barrel and going on about the indecency of women or something.”

 

“What?” Steve says, giving him a strange look before he pulls out of Bruce’s driveway.  He lives about twenty minutes outside of the college, in a little neighborhood that really has more trees than it does houses, and Steve wonders if the seclusion is how he gets away with so much of what he does.

 

“I dunno,” Bruce says, “He was either going to rope me in or start shooting, so it’s better to just not be there.  So, coach really just let you on the team?”

 

“I mean, I went through mini tryouts before break,” Steve says, shrugging, “I didn’t actually know you ran track.  I thought just Betty did.”

 

“I didn’t until this year, but she raves about it so much that I joined up.  You’re gonna love it.  We’ve got a meet coming up soon, too, and our actual running teams are so small, which is probably why coach pulled you in mid-season.  Like, Sam and I do distance, but that’s pretty much it.  Anyway, I’m rambling.  How’s your break been so far?”

 

“Fairly normal,” Steve says, “Been spending most of my time with Emma, though we went to the bookstore the other day and ran into Bucky.”

 

“Oh boy,” Bruce says, making a face, “How was that?”

 

“It was—okay,” Steve says, “We talked for a little bit, and he asked me out for tea sometime, but I dunno.  It doesn’t feel right.”

 

“Because of Tony?”

 

“No,” Steve says, shaking his head, “I mean, kind of, but not because I’m dating him, because of how Bucky treated him.  I know Tony’s not the easiest person to get along with, but he’s my best friend, and he has been since I met him, and Bucky was just really shitty to him the whole time we were dating.  I mean, enough that I felt like I had to sneak talking to Tony while he was in France over the summer.”

 

“That may just be your guilt talking,” Bruce says.

 

“I know,” Steve sighs, “But still.  It doesn’t feel right.”

 

“Maybe you should go with him, see how things go, see if there’s any way to patch things up, be friends again, though being friends with exes is hell, I don’t know how Tony does it.”

 

Steve shakes his head.  “It’s crazy,” he says, “He’s hanging out with Johnny today, and I have no doubt things are cool between them, that nothing will happen, but I don’t get it, how he can hang out with him after he’s slept with him.  I mean, I’m on good terms with Johnny, but I can’t imagine inviting him over.”

 

“They stayed friends over the summer and during this semester, though, right?  Maybe he’s just an anomaly.  I gotta say, though, I’m so glad you two finally figured things out.  For one, I wanted to flay Luke, I hated him so much, and for another, I’d about given up hope.  I really thought Tony was gonna call it quits, that you two would just be friends, which would have been fine, but you’re so good together, Steve.”

 

“You think?”

 

“I know.  I have eyes,” he says, laughing, “He’s head over heels for you, man, hook, line, and _sinker_.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve says, and Bruce nods.  Steve smiles, staring out at the road as he thinks of Tony, trying to imagine him in love, and he wonders if that’s what this is, this quiet, caring, warm Tony that’s been showing its colors more and more.

 

They arrive at the school ten minutes later, and they go inside to the indoor track where a few people have already arrived and are mingling around, stretching out.  Bruce leads him over, waving as a man jogs over to them.  “Sam, hey,” Bruce says, “This is Steve.”

 

“The big dude with the swimmer’s body,” Sam says, stopping before them and looking Steve over, “Man, you weren’t kidding, he’s huge.”

 

“And right here,” Steve says.

 

Sam laughs, reaching out a hand, “Sam Wilson, sometimes assistant coach.”

 

“Steve Rogers,” Steve says, shaking hands with him, “Sometimes?”

 

“I also run.  What year are you?”

 

“Sophomore, you?”

 

“Same,” he says before turning to Bruce, “Your lady was looking for you.”

 

“Thanks, man, I’ll see you later,” Bruce says, nodding to them before he heads off.

 

“So, what’s your major?” Sam asks as he walks away, Steve following him.

 

“Art.  You?”

 

“Psychology.  Wait a minute, you’re—shit, you’re dating Tony Stark, right?” Sam says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

“I should have figured that would follow me here,” Steve says.

 

Sam laughs, giving him a light punch on the arm, “I play soccer with Thor.  He talks sometimes, real broken up about you two.”

 

“He did have a fondness for Tony,” Steve says, and Sam laughs harder.

 

They approach a team of people stretching out, and Sam says, “These are our runners.  You’ll meet everyone else later, but, for now, we’re going to get you acquainted with who you’ll be running with.  Say hi, guys.”

 

“Hi, guys,” they all say, and Sam rolls his eyes.

 

“So funny,” he mutters, “Anyway, you and me are gonna become best friends real fast.  Coach showed me your times, and I will work your ass.”

 

“Good,” Steve says, shrugging off his bag, “I look forward to it.”

 

“See,” Sam says, pointing at Steve as he looks at his teammates, “This is the kind of attitude I’m talking about, you lazy sons of—hello, my gorgeous raven,” he ends with, smiling brightly as Betty jogs over to them.

 

“Steve!” she exclaims, hurrying over and hugging him, “Bruce told me you were coming, but I totally forgot!  Oh my god, Sam,” she says, bouncing up and down, “Is he running hurdles?”

 

“We’ll see,” Sam says, “What are you interested in trying out first?”

 

“Anything, really,” Steve says, “I ran track in high school, but never really focused on anything.”

 

“Okay,” Sam says, nodding, “We can work with that.  Let’s do some warm up stretches, guys, and then I want a couple laps, get those lungs moving.  Come on!”  The team grumbles, Sam whines obnoxiously at them, and Betty tugs Steve over to stretch with her.

 

——

 

After practice is over and they’ve all hit the showers, Steve goes looking for Betty and Bruce, who are loitering near the exit, talking to a few people.  “Hey,” Bruce says as Steve heads over, “We’re going out for pizza, if you wanna come.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds awesome,” Steve says, smiling.

 

“Excellent,” Betty says, “Well, I’m starved.  Reconvene at Rizzo’s downtown?”

 

They finalize their plans, and then head out, Bruce offering to go with Steve so he can show him the way.  When they arrive at Rizzo’s, a cute, little shop, Bruce and he have gotten into a heated debate over what’s better, track or field, and Steve’s reminded of what it’s like to have someone to hang out with, to just be purely friends with someone.

 

Inside, after they’ve ordered and found a seat, Betty clears her throat loudly until they boys settle, and she says, “Introductions are in order, I believe.  Steve, these are the bolts.  Bolts, this is Steve.  Specifically, the twins, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff.  Pietro currently holds the record for sprints, and Wanda is one of the best javelin throwers I have ever seen.  Bobby Drake, who does shot put and hammer, and who I, personally, think is pretty terrifying sometimes.  Alex Summers, who broke state record last year with his high jump.  And you already know Sam from earlier.”

 

“Bolts?” Steve repeats, looking over at Betty.

 

“It’s corny,” Pietro says, shrugging, “Fast as lightning.”

 

“The Bolts,” they all say at once, and Steve laughs.

 

“Yeah, that’s kind of corny.”

 

“Pizza’s ready!” Alex exclaims, reaching over to slap Steve’s shoulder, “Come on, big guy.  First day means you’re carrying.”

 

Steve shrugs and follows Alex over to the counter, where their pizzas are being placed.  “Sam tells us you’re faster than him at hurdles.”

 

“Seems that way,” Steve says, taking one of the pizzas, “How’s the high jump?”

 

“High,” Alex says, and Steve laughs.  “It’s good,” Alex continues, taking another, “I like it, but it gets boring sometimes, you know?  Just waiting around all the time, then, when it finally comes time, bam, it’s done.  At least you get to run sometimes.  Hey, you should go toe to toe with Pietro, see if you can beat his time.  Kid’s insane.”

 

“Have you ever thought about switching out to run?” Steve asks when they make their second round.

 

“Yeah, I have before,” Alex says, “I ran in high school, but then, coming here, Pietro’s their sprint star, so I didn’t want to step on his toes.  He’s two years older than me and way better than I’ll ever hope to be, so I guess I’m content.  Plus, he’s no competition, he just blows you right out of the water.”

 

“We should go against each other sometime,” Steve offers.

 

“Yeah?” Alex says, and, when Steve nods, he smiles widely.  “Dude, that’d be awesome.  Remind me to get your number before we leave, we can set up a day to come early to practice.”

 

Steve just nods again, and then they’re returning to their table.  They spend the night laughing and talking and eating until Steve feels like he’s really found a group of people he can click with.  He didn’t realize how much he’s missed being on a team, and he’s glad to be back.

 

They’re just starting to wind down, drifting off into quiet conversation about their upcoming meet, when Steve’s phone starts buzzing.  He digs it out, smiling softly when he sees Tony’s name.  “Excuse me,” he says before he gets up and walks away, answering it, “Hey babe.”

 

“Hey shoulders,” Tony says warmly, and Steve doesn’t know how he does it, but he’s nearly beaming just hearing his voice, “How’d practice go?”

 

“It was amazing, Tony,” Steve says, “Oh man, I missed this so much, I’m so happy Bruce convinced me to go in for tryouts.  Sam’s got me on distance and hurdles right now, and it’s a lot of fun.”

 

“That’s awesome,” Tony says, “You better not start waking me up for morning runs, though, or I’ll have to resort to something violent.”

 

Steve laughs, “Never, you need your beauty sleep.”

 

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, douche canoe.”

 

“If it makes you feel better, ass pirate.  How was Johnny?”

 

“Good.  We spent some time catching up, helped my mom make a few decisions on her paintings, and now I’m just lounging in her studio while she gets ready.  We’re going out to the gallery in a little bit, gonna make some preliminary sketches for what she wants to do for the next show, which I’m supposed to invite you to.”

 

“Yeah, just let me know when, and I’ll tell the folks.”  He looks back over at the table, frowning when he sees them getting their things to leave.  He feels like he hasn’t been able to talk to Tony enough since they got home, and he wants to stay on the phone with him, but he doesn’t want to abandon his friends, either, not when it’s still so new.  “Hey, I gotta go,” he says finally, “I’m out to dinner with some of the guys from track.  Can I call you later?” Steve asks, and he doesn’t want to hang up, wants to stay here and talk until he can convince himself that Tony’s curled up next to him, babbling on about the stupid people in his classes while Steve rolls his eyes and tries to kiss him quiet.

 

“Okay,” Tony says, “I’ll let you know when I’m free.  Have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Steve says.  Tony laughs softly, and it fills Steve up until he can’t stop grinning.  “I’ll talk to you later,” he says.

 

“Bye,” Tony says, and then the line goes dead.

 

“Hey,” Alex says, appearing at his elbow, “We’re heading back to mine for drinks, if you wanna come.”

 

“Um,” Steve says, looking down at his phone.  Tony had said he was going to the gallery with Maria, and so he’ll be busy for the next couple of hours, so Steve nods, “Yeah, that sounds good, thanks.”

 

Alex grins and heads off, glancing over his shoulder when Steve doesn’t follow right away.  He shoves his phone back in his pocket and follows him out where everyone’s gathered.  They spend a few minutes chatting outside Rizzo’s, Alex giving directions, and then they’re splitting up, Bruce going with Betty this time.  When Steve arrives, he lingers in his car, staring at his phone, and he doesn’t know what this is, why he’s so reluctant to spend time with them suddenly, but there’s this burning inside of him to be near Tony, so he texts him, _I miss you so much._

After waiting a few more moments, he gets out of the car and heads up to Alex’s apartment, which he shares with his older brother, Scott, who goes to Johnny’s school.  Alex raids his brother’s booze, yelling back and forth with him until Scott concedes to let them drink as long as they’re responsible.  Alex just grins and starts handing out bottles.

 

Steve nurses his for a while, and the alcohol opens him up a little, lets him relax and participate in the conversation more, though, as the night is waning on, he gets a message from Tony, _I can’t sleep without you_ , and he knows where he needs to be.

 

“Hey guys, I’m gonna head out,” he says, setting his nearly empty bottle on the table, “Thanks for having me over, Alex.”

 

“Aw, man, you can’t leave yet!” Alex exclaims, “The night is still young!”

 

“Stay with us,” the twins whine, reaching for him.

 

“Yeah, come on, man,” Sam says, giving his knee a slap, “It’s barely nine o’clock.”

 

Steve rubs the back of his neck before he says, “Sorry, I—I gotta go.  This was fun.”

 

“This was fun, he says,” Pietro scoffs, “You’re such a granddad.  Fess up, Rogers, where are you going?”

 

Steve sighs, and he can’t stop the smile that starts to form as he says, “My boyfriend’s.  I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

 

“Dude, you’re gay?” Alex says, and there’s something in the way he grins that makes Steve a little nervous.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and it’s a moment before he continues, “Um, thanks again.  I’ll see you guys in a couple days for practice, yeah?  Have a good night.”

 

Though they whine as he’s collecting his things, they let him go, and then Steve’s hurrying out to his car.  He tries not to speed on his way home, but something is ripping apart inside of him, letting something wild and beautiful loose, and Tony’s name is a litany inside his head until he’s bursting through his front door and hurrying for the stairs.

 

“Steve?” Sara calls from the living room.  He barrels up, swings around the corner into the hall, and jogs down it and into his room.  He’s packing when Sara shows up, knocking on the door as she opens it.  “I thought you’d still be out with the track guys,” she says, leaning against the doorway.

 

“I need to ask a favor,” he says, coming over and kissing her on the cheek before he grabs things off his dresser, “Can I stay at Tony’s tonight?”

 

“Steve,” Sara sighs, folding her arms over her chest.

 

“I know it’s sudden, but I really—I just—I don’t know why, but I need to see him, I need to be near him, I—I—mom, I don’t know, I just—” he breaks off, deflating a little, but Sara’s got this knowing smile that makes Steve’s eyebrows furrow.  “What?” he says.

 

“Nothing,” Sara says, shrugging, “I get it.  Just be safe, okay?  And make sure you’re actually welcome before you go over.  Call me when you get there so I know you made it alright.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve says, zipping his backpack, “You’re the best.”

 

“I know,” she says smugly, and Steve just laughs, coming over again.  “Listen,” Sara says, running her hands over the straps of his backpack before settling them on his shoulders, “I know you spoke with Howard, but you’re a guest in his house, so don’t give him grief if you see him.  If Maria hints that you should leave, then you leave.  If, for any reason, you need me to come get you because you made a stupid decision and you can’t drive, which you shouldn’t with Tony’s heart _anyway_ , call me, and I will come get you, no questions asked.  This—” Sara breaks off, sighing, “This is only happening because it’s Tony, you know that, right?  If ever you break up with him, which you better not, I won’t allow this.  I know Maria, and I know Tony, and I know you’ll be safe and make good decisions there, so I’m allowing something that none of your sisters will ever get.  Do you understand?”  When Steve nods, she continues, “Don’t squander my trust.  If you do, you might as well start digging your own grave.”

 

Steve laughs.  “Thanks, mom,” he says, bending down when she tugs at him, and she kisses him on the cheek before smacking his arm.

 

“Off you pop,” she says, stepping aside

 

Steve thanks her again, and then he’s off.  He texts Tony after he’s gotten into the car, _hey, are you busy tonight?_ , and then pulls out of the driveway.

 

Tony texts him back halfway to the mansion, _no, just got home.  Wanna facetime?_

Steve grins and maybe speeds a little, and he makes it to Tony’s in good time.  He calls him as he’s grabbing his backpack.  “Hey,” Tony answers, “Thought I’d lost you.”

 

“Wanna let me in?”

 

“What?”  Steve looks up, searching for Tony’s window as he gets out of the car, and he sees his curtains pull back abruptly before Tony’s squealing, the line goes dead, and Steve starts laughing.  By the time he’s reached the door, it’s being yanked open, and Tony practically leaps at him, throwing his arms around him and hugging him tightly.  “God, I missed you,” he presses the words into his neck, and Steve just holds onto him, closing his eyes and breathing him in.  When he steps back, he pokes Steve’s backpack strap and says, “What’s with the bag?”

 

“I thought you were having trouble sleeping without me,” Steve says, and Tony grins widely.

 

“Suave motherfucker,” he purrs, and Steve laughs, giving him a shove inside.

 

Maria’s just coming into the foyer from the kitchen when the door closes behind them, and she waves.  “I didn’t know you were coming by tonight, Steve,” she says, smiling.

 

“Neither did I,” he admits, “I heard there was going to be a new show.”

 

“Oh good, you remembered!” she says to Tony, “I didn’t.  And yes, I am.  It’s going to be fabulous, as always.”

 

“I expect nothing less.”

 

“Thank you, dear.  Well, I’m off to finish a painting.  I’m feeling a wee bit insomniatic tonight.  I do hope you’re staying over.  Maybe then Tony will stop wandering the halls.”  She stops by them, leaning up to kiss Tony’s cheek.  “Have fun, boys.  Goodnight, darling.”

 

“Goodnight, mamma,” Tony says, smiling before he reaches for Steve’s hand, tugging him off.

 

By the time they reach the third floor, Steve is starting to feel itchy, and he steps in close behind Tony, arms sliding around his waist as he presses a soft kiss to his neck.  Tony hums, slowing a little, and it takes them a bit to get down the hall and to the room.  When they finally do, Tony turns, opening the door behind him as he lilts up, and Steve meets him, hands cupping his face as he kisses him, thumbs stroking over his jaw.

 

They stumble into the bedroom, Steve kicking the door shut behind him, and Tony starts pushing at the straps of his backpack until Steve shrugs it off, letting it drop to the floor.  Tony pulls back to yank his shirt off, and Steve starts to step in against him when he remembers, and he says, “We can’t.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Tony whines, actually stomping his foot, “I can’t fucking wait anymore is what we can’t do, okay.  Steve, I miss you, I miss when you hold me, I miss your breath against my ear,” he steps in against Steve, tugging his belt loose and twisting open the button on his jeans, “I miss the way you say my name just before you come, I miss your fingers bruising me,” he shoves Steve’s jeans down off his hips, letting them sag to the ground before he’s cupping his hardening cock and closing the distance between them, squeezing lightly, “I miss how your cock fills me when you’re inside me, I miss _you_ , Steve.”

 

“No acrobatics,” Steve says, and Tony nods, leaving a soft, barely there kiss against his jaw.  Steve sighs, hand coming up to thread through the back of Tony’s hair, scratching lightly against his scalp.  “Nothing crazy.  Gentle sex.”

 

Tony drops back onto his heels, looking up at Steve.  “I was kind of hoping for that, actually,” he admits, shrugging one shoulder, and Steve just smiles and kisses him, holding him close until Tony starts walking them back, and he goes until the back of Tony’s knees hit the bed, and he lets him go.  He tugs off his shirt as Tony shimmies out of his jeans and boxer briefs, and then he’s clambering up onto the bed, Steve following after he’s gotten his boxer briefs off, as well.  He takes a moment to appreciate the fact that he can do this, and it still shocks him sometimes, that he doesn’t have to worry he might want to run away because this is all he’s ever wanted since he met Tony.

 

He slides them together, taking one of Tony’s legs as he goes, knee pressing in against his side as he kisses him, long and slow, rolling his hips down into Tony’s, who gasps softly, shifting up toward him.  “Steve,” he says breathlessly, hands coming up, one circling his shoulder, the other curling around his jaw, thumb swiping over his lip, “I need you.”

 

“I’m right here,” Steve whispers, leaning down to kiss him again before he reaches over toward the nightstand, searching until he can find Tony’s favorite, mint lube, and then he comes back, sitting back on his heels.  Tony pulls his other knee up, toes tapping lightly against Steve’s thighs until he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of his knee.  Tony smiles down at him, and Steve leans his head against his knee, looking up the plane of his body at him.

 

“Hey,” Tony says, his smile growing warm and soft.

 

“Hey,” Steve murmurs before he kisses his thigh and then leans back again, uncapping the lube.  He moves it around his fingers until it’s warm, and then he drops his hand down, letting his knuckles brush along Tony’s balls before they’re stretching back, rubbing lightly at his entrance.  Tony lets out a hard breath, forcing himself to stay on the bed, but then Steve’s slowly pressing one inside, and he moans softly, shifting down toward him.  “Easy,” Steve says, and Tony nearly starts whining, but Steve continues, “Be quiet.”

 

He stretches him slowly until Tony’s pliant and letting out these breathy little moans, the quiet shush of his voice filling the room.  When Steve curls a hand around his cock, Tony scoots backward a little, closer to his pillows, and moonlight washes over him like a silver wave.  He looks beautiful like this, eyes heavy and dark, his hard cock resting against his belly, legs bent in, hair a little bit wild, and Steve forgets how to breathe just looking at him.

 

“Come on,” Tony murmurs, reaching out a foot to bat against his leg lightly.

 

Steve grins, finding his breath again, before he crawls up the bed to him, unfolding Tony’s legs so they hook around his hips, feet brushing against his as Steve presses carefully against him, leaning his forehead against Tony’s chest so he can hear his heartbeat as he slowly eases in.  It’s a little fast, but otherwise fine, and so he lifts his head, shifting forward so he sinks in, hips flush with Tony’s ass.

 

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony gasps, arms circling him, one hand coming up to curl around the back of his shoulder, nails digging in lightly, the other pressing warmly against his spine.  Steve leans close, nosing at Tony’s jaw until he tips his head up, and Steve fits their mouths together, kisses him softly before he licks inside, tastes Tony and learns the shape of his mouth.

 

One of his forearms comes down by Tony’s head, fingers tangling in his hair, while the other remains at his side, using the bed as leverage as he pushes off it a little, sliding out of Tony.  He’s trembling when he rolls back toward him, and he breaks away to look down at him.  “Are you okay?” he asks.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony groans, and so Steve shifts again, gasping when Tony’s nails drag along his back.  “God, Steve, I missed you so much,” he says, his breath rushing out to fill Steve’s mouth as he leans back down, fusing their mouths together.

 

He swallows down his quiet noises, their bodies moving fluidly against one another, pressed so close that all Steve can smell is Tony, all he can feel is the warm tangle of their limbs, and his hips roll a little faster, trying to bring them closer to the fire.

 

“Steve,” Tony whispers, and Steve snaps in a little harder, groans when Tony cries out, voice pitched high and thin, and he can hear it in his voice.

 

“Tony,” he murmurs, pressing his name into his skin, “Tony, _god_.”

 

“Sometimes,” Tony says, and Steve almost laughs.  He hides his smile in Tony’s neck, arm sliding beneath him to pull him closer, and whatever quip Tony has coming next is lost in the way his voice trips into a low, wrecked moan as Steve’s cock slides deeper inside of him, rubs over his prostate and ignites his blood.  “Steve,” he gasps.

 

“Tony,” Steve breathes out, lifting his head to kiss him again, and he wants to stay here forever, as close to Tony as he can get.

 

“Steve— _Steve_ ,” Tony whines, nails biting into his skin, “Fuck, Steve.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

Tony’s knees press out, sliding along Steve’s, and it opens him up more, lets Steve quicken his thrusts until he’s chasing, and he can feel how close Tony is from the way his breaths hitch higher, muscles tightening until he’s tipping his head back, and Steve leans his temple against his jaw, breathes him in and holds him there until Tony’s coming with a soft shout, Steve’s name tumbling from his lips as his cock throbs between them, and Steve feels him come, painting their skin as his ass tightens, pulling Steve over with him.  It almost takes him by surprise, this quick, low tug before he’s sliding in and stilling, and he doesn’t know how many times he says Tony’s name, just that he does, his voice breaking apart as he comes, trembling as Tony clings to him.

 

When they finally come back to each other, Tony’s breathing hard, but he’s grinning loosely, and Steve laughs softly, leaning down to kiss him.  “Stay,” Tony mumbles against his mouth, hands pressing into his back, “Wait.”

 

Steve stays, closing his eyes as he leans their foreheads together, waits until Tony’s breath matches his before he leans up and away, easing out of Tony, who lets out a quiet whine when Steve’s cock slides out of his ass.  Steve reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a handful of tissues to clean Tony’s stomach off with.  He crumples them up and starts to get off when Tony takes them from him, tossing them over the side of the bed.  “Morning,” he says, pushing Steve over onto his back.

 

Tony curls close to him, moonlight dancing over his back as he pushes up and kisses Steve’s jaw, and again, until Steve turns his head, letting Tony kiss his mouth.  It’s slow and easy and so familiar that it makes Steve ache with wanting him closer, and he reaches for him, tugging at him until Tony slides up and over, straddling him.  He drops down, cuddling against him, nose pressing along his jaw as his breath exhales out over Steve’s neck.

 

“Steve,” he whispers.

 

Steve hums, one hand coming up to rub over his back.  Tony’s heart is beating _hard_ , ricocheting against Steve’s chest, and he starts to ask him if something’s wrong when Tony sighs and presses a soft kiss to his throat.  He rubs his nose against his jaw and then kisses it, moving down until he can reach his shoulder, nipping lightly before he lays a wet kiss over it.  He takes a slow breath, and then says, “I love you.”

 

He looks up immediately, blue gaze flicking over Steve’s face, who just stares at him, his mouth open in a small circle, his eyes wide and disbelieving, and he just _stares_.

 

Tony doesn’t know what he sees, but it’s not what he was expecting, and he starts to backpedal, steeling himself as he says, “I am a compulsive liar.”

 

He starts moving, pulling away from Steve, who lets him, just staring at him, this open, utterly shocked look on his face that Tony never wants to see again, and he was so wrong, he was _so wrong_.  “I love blue things, also, like Jarvis, and—and—and your eyes, and no, shit, that’s—ignore me, I am so just compulsively lying all over the place, look at me go,” Tony rambles as he hurries to get away from Steve, and he almost makes it to the edge of the bed when Steve grabs him and hauls him back, twists them so Tony’s back thuds against the mattress and Steve looms over him, and there it is, this smile that is going to break his face.  “I think I hear a—a—a _bird_ at the window, and we should let it in so—”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, shaking his head, “I love you, too.”  He leans down before Tony can respond, kissing him, but he doesn’t get away with it because Tony pushes him away.

 

“You’re just saying that,” he says tightly, “Steve, the bird, we really need to—”

 

“Shut up,” Steve says, and this time, Tony lets him kiss him, even pulls him closer, fingers fisted tightly in his hair.

 

When they finally part, Tony is trembling lightly, but he still manages to say, “Promise?  Because I’m not sure what will happen if you’re just saying it because I said it, but I’ll probably excuse myself to go to the bathroom and probably cry because I’m such an idiot, and I shouldn’t have said that out loud, but—”

 

“Stop it,” Steve says, reaching back for Tony’s hand and taking it out of his hair.  He winds their fingers together, kisses Tony’s knuckles, and says, “I love you.  I promise.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, biting his lip to try to hide the smile, but it still sneaks through, wide and happy.  “I love you, too.”

 

Steve just laughs and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this chapter just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, I love it, :) This is just a small note to remind you, yet again, that the chapters have been getting farther apart as far as updating goes because I haven’t been doing any writing for this fic. I’ve been doing plenty for my books, but those are an entirely different thing. Actually, some really amazing stuff has been happening lately, and I’m so in love with what’s going on. But, alas, that I’m on Irizedd again means that I may not get back to writing this for a while. I’m not making any promises on either front, so this is just, again, a warning so that you know what’s going on. Anyway, it’s been a long day—optometrist appointment to figure out if my Thygeson’s is flaring up again (it is), vet appointment for the girls, which they hated, and then birthday shopping for one of my friends that is moving away to Florida—so I just want to sit back, finish editing this chapter, and then start writing some new ones. I hope you enjoyed this, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	36. Chapter 36

When Steve wakes, the room is warm and golden, and Tony is snug against his side, and he can’t remember the last time he slept so well.  He inhales deeply, curling a little closer to Tony, who hums softly and presses a lazy kiss to his chest.  He mumbles something incoherent, but Steve catches the word time, and he looks over.  “Ten,” he says, turning back to kiss his forehead, “Got any plans for today?”

 

“You’re staying,” Tony murmurs, and Steve smiles.

 

“Okay.  We should—” but then the door opens, and Steve looks over.

 

“Tony!” Maria exclaims immediately, and Tony’s hand darts out, grabbing the blankets and pulling them over his head.

 

“Maria,” Steve says, wide-eyed.

 

“You little _rat_ ,” she mutters, folding her arms over her chest, “Four weeks, Tony.  It’s only been three.”

 

“Mamma, I’m _fine_ ,” he says from under the blankets, “Plus, Steve was gentle with me.  Tell her, Steve.”  


“I’m—I’m _not_ participating in this conversation,” he says, flushing a deep red.

 

“Lame,” Tony says, coming out and glaring at him.

 

“Steve,” Maria sighs.

 

“I tried!” he exclaims, pointedly not looking at her or Tony, “You know how difficult it is to say no to him.”

 

Maria nods, rolling her eyes.  “Fair point.  Well—get dressed, breakfast is going to be ready in a few minutes.  You’re trouble,” she says, pointing an angry finger at Tony, who just grins widely.

 

Maria leaves them, and Steve groans when she’s gone, rolling out of bed.  “I told you it was a bad idea,” he says, and Tony snorts.

 

“Oh, because my mom says so?  Come on, are you trying to tell me last night wasn’t worth it?” Tony winks as he gets out of bed, and Steve shakes his head, though he’s grinning when Tony comes over, kissing him.  “Wanna shower with me?”

 

“Your mom said—”

 

“A few minutes, which means about fifteen,” Tony says, fingers circling Steve’s wrist and tugging him off toward the bathroom.

 

“Tony,” Steve sighs.

 

“I literally have no alternative agenda,” Tony says, looking over his shoulder, “I just want to be near you.”

 

Steve smiles, following him into the bathroom.  “Yeah, I know that feeling,” he says, and Tony grins, giving his chest a light slap before he turns on the shower.

 

——

 

After they’ve eaten breakfast, Steve excuses himself to go out for a run, and Tony follows Maria into her studio.  She starts to berate him about having sex too early, but he says, “Mamma,” in a voice weighted with warmth, and Maria watches him drop down onto the futon with this dopey grin on his face.

 

“Okay,” she says slowly, coming over, “What happened?”  Angela knocks, stepping in, and Maria smiles.  “A pot of tea, if you wouldn’t mind, Angela.”  She nods and exits again, so Maria turns back to Tony, “Spill, Cher.”

 

“Mamma,” he says again, dropping his head to her shoulder to hide his face, “I told him I loved him.”

 

“What?” she exclaims, jumping, and Tony whines when she jostles him, lifting his head and rubbing his temple.  “Tony,” she gasps, “What did he say back?”

 

“Okay, it was actually really terrifying,” Tony says, folding his legs under him, “He didn’t respond at first, just looked at me like I had three heads or something, so I freaked out, tried to retract it and run away, but then he pulled me back, and—and he said it back.”

 

“He did?  Oh, baby,” Maria says, clapping her hands together, “That’s amazing.  How do you feel about it now?”

 

“Good,” Tony says, nodding, and he can’t stop the beam that forms, “Really good.  I know it’s really early still in our relationship, but—”

 

“Tony, there’s something different about you two,” Maria says, taking one of his hands in hers, “You’re like magnets, and you have been since you first met each other.  If it feels right, then it’s right.”

 

“Yeah?  You think?”

 

“I know,” Maria says, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.  When she settles again, she taps his nose and says, “Now, I need your help deciding on a few things while you’re free.”  And so, Tony follows her over to the piece she’s currently working on, and they argue for a while, figuring out what’s best until Steve returns, knocking before he comes in.

 

“Wow,” he says as he looks around, “This is incredible.”

 

“Have you never been in here?” Maria asks, flicking Tony when he reaches for one of her brushes.

 

“No,” Steve says, glancing over at her.

 

“Let me give you the grand tour, then.  Antonio, giuro su Dio, se si tocca ancora una volta che la spazzola, io spingerò esso su per il naso.  **(I swear to god, if you touch that brush again, I will shove it up your nose.)** ”

 

“Ow,” he says, gaping at her, “Che è aspro.  **(That’s harsh.)** ”

 

“Sei un fastidio, **(You’re a nuisance.)** ” she says, slapping his hand again, “Fermata analisi mia pazienza.  **(Stop testing my patience.)** ”

 

Tony sticks his tongue out at her, so Maria tugs on his ear and then goes to show Steve around the studio.  Tony watches them, smiling as his mother gets worked up about water colors when they stop at a particular painting because then Steve starts going back and forth with her, and Tony wishes he could do this with him, wishes he had enough artistic knowledge to be able to talk about this with him.  He makes a mental note to ask more questions about his classes and his current projects.

 

They’re nearly finished going around the studio when Steve looks over at him, and Tony smiles softly, waving.  Steve blows him a kiss, Tony pretends to catch it, and Steve just smiles and turns his attention back to Maria.

 

When Maria finally returns to her painting and shoos Tony away, he lets Steve take his hand, and they head out together, going upstairs.  In his room, Tony dumps onto his bed, but Steve lingers, just staring down at him, and Tony starts to speak when Steve asks, “Can I draw you?”

 

“Sure,” Tony says, sliding into a ridiculous position, “Paint me like one of your French girls.”

 

“Oh, fuck off,” Steve says, giving his shoulder a shove so he tips over before he goes to get his bag.

 

“Want me to do anything in particular?” Tony asks even as he grabs one of his tablets.

 

Steve looks over and says, “Just that.  Work on something.”

 

Tony shrugs and opens up one of his latest projects, pulling up a hologram to fiddle with.  Steve climbs up onto the bed with his sketchpad and a pencil, sitting with his back against the wall.  “I hope you don’t expect me to be quiet,” Tony says as Steve opens his pad, “Because that’s not usually an option I can accomplish.”

 

“You can talk,” Steve says, smiling, “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you be quiet, even when sleeping.”

 

“I do _not_ talk in my sleep.”  Steve lets out a soft laugh, working out the curve of Tony’s knee, sloping into his crossed legs.  “Shut up,” Tony says, looking over at him, “Do I talk in my sleep?”

 

“Sometimes you snore.”

 

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Yogi Bear.”

 

“Hey, at least I freely admit it.”

 

Tony makes a face before going back to his hologram, frowning at it before he starts pulling apart things.  “What do I say?” he asks after a few moments.

 

“Mostly formulas,” Steve says, smiling when he notices Tony’s sitting in full lotus.  “Is that just comfortable for you?” he asks.

 

“What?” Tony says, looking up, his expression a little dazed.

 

“Full lotus.”

 

“Oh,” he says, looking down at his legs, “Uh, yeah, actually.”

 

“When did you start doing yoga?” Steve asks, tracing out the rest of his leg so he can work on his feet.

 

“I don’t really remember,” Tony says, shrugging, “I’ve always been doing it.  My earliest memories are of doing yoga with my mom.  She sits like this when she—arts.”

 

“Did you just use arts as a verb?” Steve asks, shaking his head.

 

“Well, she does more than paint, so.  I’m excited for the new show.  She’s got some interesting ideas.”

 

“Any hints?”

 

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy, sorry.  Besides, I’m—” but he trails off, and, when Steve looks up, he’s leaned in close to his hologram, mumbling softly to himself as his fingers move through it.

 

Steve focuses on his legs for a while, getting the shape just right, and they drift off into a comfortable silence.  Steve works to the sound of Tony’s soft words, and sometimes he gets a little distracted just watching him.  He’s just finishing his legs for now when Tony says, “What’s your favorite animal?”

 

“Dogs, why?” Steve says.

 

“Because I like your body,” Tony says, and Steve erupts into laughter, head tipping back against the wall as Tony grins cheekily.  When Steve settles again, he shrugs and says, “I like you.  I wanna know all the dirty deets.”

 

“So, favorite animal is a dirty detail?  What’s yours?”

 

“ _Cats_.”

 

“Of course it is.  Do you have a particular favorite?”

 

“Probably tigers,” Tony says, “They’re ridiculous.  Second favorite?”

 

“Uh—elephants.”

 

“Dude, me too,” Tony says excitedly, “Did you know that they are one of the only mammals, besides us, of course, that can cry?  I love elephants, and snakes.  Snakes are so badass.”

 

“Yeah, no thanks,” Steve says, “They’re about as awesome as spiders.”

 

“Oh, fuck that.  Especially tarantulas, I hate that shit.  Hey, we should go to the zoo sometime.  When I was really little, I wanted to be a vet, but for, like, big safari cats and stuff.  You know, work at a zoo and help them out?  My mom used to take me all the time, and my dad always said it was a waste of time because I’d be going into engineering, like him, but she didn’t care.  She never did.”

  
“What about now?”

 

“If I’d wanted to stick with veterinary practices, I would have,” Tony says, “I love engineering, though.  If I wasn’t in the studio with my mom, I was in the lab with my dad.  We used to work on cars all the time.  He taught me almost everything I know about cars.”

 

“Wow,” Steve says, looking up, “That’s probably the first decent thing I’ve ever heard you say about him.”

 

Tony shrugs, lifting his arms up and back to stretch his shoulders.  “We had a good relationship when I was younger,” he says, “Up until boarding school, he was an entirely different person, but then, I dunno.  Those first two years, he was so frustrated with me, and then they switched me to a private school after I kept acting out, and I guess that did him in.  He couldn’t let it go, and he’s been this way since.  But it was good, really good, before it got bad.”

 

Steve lets that sit for a minute before he returns to his sketch and asks, “Favorite decade of music?”

 

“Oh, you know this one,” Tony says, and Steve smiles, starting on one of his hands, “70s, man, the _only_ decade of good rock.  You?”

 

“90s alternative, probably.”

 

Tony makes an obnoxious noise and gives Steve his most ridiculous eye roll before he says, “You like the Spin Doctors, don’t you?”

 

“They’re good!”

 

“They are _not_ ,” Tony says, pointing at him.

 

“Jarvis,” Steve says, and Tony gapes at him, though he’s grinning as he does.

 

“Yes, Mister Rogers?” Jarvis’ voice echoes around the room.

 

“Drop my needle.”

 

“Oh, no you didn’t!” Tony gasps.

 

 _Two Princes_ starts leaking through the room, and Steve throws his sketchpad at the same time Tony lunges across the bed at him.  They start fighting, though it mostly contains Tony giggling while Steve tickles him, and then Tony’s trying to run away, so Steve tosses him onto the bed, which means Tony has to start kicking him, so Steve scoops him up and drops onto his side, holding Tony against him.  “You’re a bully,” Tony mutters, so Steve kisses him quiet and then releases him.

 

“I like this,” Steve says as Tony curls against him, head pillowed on Steve’s chest, “I like being able to hold you whenever I want.”

 

“Me too,” Tony says softly, arm looping around Steve, “I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

 

“Hey,” Steve says, and Tony nods.

 

“I know, we were both assholes.  You were just the bigger one sometimes.  We had to figure each other out,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder, “Learn how to be individuals before we learned to be together.”

 

Steve smiles, running a hand over Tony’s back before it settles against his shoulder, and he closes his eyes, just enjoying the nearness of him.  They lie together for a while until Tony stretches and says, “Have you ever seen _Alien vs Predator_?”  Steve hasn’t, Tony starts whining, Steve says he doesn’t even know what it is, and then Tony’s flailing over onto his back, pretending to be dead, so Steve blows a raspberry on his exposed throat, and Tony starts giggling again.  “We should watch it later.  I’m in the mood for scifi, I think.  You’ve seen _Star Wars_ , right?”

 

“Duh,” Steve says, and Tony smiles.

 

“Good, you passed.”

 

“I should probably call my mom at some point,” Steve says as Tony sits again, reaching for his tablet.

 

“Are you staying over again tonight?” Tony asks, not looking at him, and Steve knows what he’s doing, trying not to be too hopeful.

 

“Am I invited?” Steve asks.

 

Tony guffaws, finally turning to him.  “Of course you are,” he says, “I’d keep you here every day if I could.”  Steve just smiles and leans forward to kiss him before he’s returning to his drawing, and that’s how they spend their afternoon.

 

——

 

When four o’clock rolls around, Tony starts whining about his impending hunger, and Steve starts to tell him to be quiet when he gets the idea, and he says, “We should cook dinner.”

 

“Oh my god, yes,” Tony says, grabbing his knee and tickling so Steve shouts and swats at him.  When they’re done, and Tony’s halfway across the room, Steve glaring at him from the bed, Tony continues, “I’m serious.  I love cooking, and I haven’t been able to in a while.  Come on, my mom will think it’s awesome.”

 

Steve shrugs and follows Tony out of the room and downstairs.  He chats with the cooks for a bit, who smile when he tells them he’s taking care of dinner tonight, and they start reminiscing about when he was younger until he’s whining at them, and they just laugh and head out, calling their goodbyes to him.

 

“Okay,” Tony says, pulling off his sweatshirt and dumping it onto the island, “What are you feeling like?”

 

“Not pasta,” Steve says.

 

“Yeah, me either.  It’s all we freaking eat at school.  Um—oh, Mexican!”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Dude, burritos.  My mom taught me this really amazing recipe one time, and we used to have them during the summer all the time.”

 

“What about your dad?” Steve asks.

 

“I don’t think he’s coming home,” Tony says, “And, if he is, then he can just suck it up because now I want burritos, and nothing will sway me.  Come on.”

 

And so they get to work, finding ingredients and supplies, and it turns out to be one of the best nights Steve’s had in a while.  Tony finds the radio the cooks use, fiddles with the stations until he lands on a classic rock one, and they boogie their way through dinner.  Maria shows up around five, drawn by the music, and she smiles when she comes in and sees them singing loudly along to _Bohemian Rhapsody_ , using wooden spoons as their microphones.  She leaves them be and goes back into the foyer, where Howard is just coming in.

 

“Hello dear,” she says as he crosses the foyer to her.

 

“Is dinner ready?” he asks, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

 

“The boys are cooking tonight,” Maria says, “So it might be a while longer.  I’ve got to get some things ready to move tomorrow, though, so I’m off.”

 

“Would you like some company?” he asks.

 

Maria smiles, a little surprised.  “That would be lovely,” she says, “I’d change out of your suit, though.”  She runs a hand over one of his lapels.  “It’s a lot of heavy lifting and dirty work.”

 

Howard actually smiles in response, stepping toward her, and Maria lifts up for a kiss.  “I’ll be right back, then.”

 

They part, Maria heading back to her studio and Howard taking the stairs up to the second floor.  After he’s changed into jeans and a thermal, he leaves his work things in his office and then goes to stop by the kitchen, quietly opening the door.  Tony is laughing loudly, corn dripping out of his hand as he runs around the island as Steve stares on, sopping wet and staring at him with a wide grin.  “Tony,” he says, and then Tony throws the corn.  Steve chases after him, grabbing him around the middle when he catches him, and Tony shrieks, twisting in his grip and trying to push away from his chest.  “You’re awful,” Steve says, tightening his hold.

 

“You like it,” Tony says, relaxing, his hands braced against Steve’s chest, just letting himself be held.

 

“Maybe,” Steve says, his grin sliding into a fond smile, “But I definitely love you.”

 

“Yeah?” Tony says, beaming, and Steve nods.  “Good,” he says, reaching up, “I love you, too.”

 

Steve kisses him, soft and slow and so familiar that Howard doesn’t feel anything but a quiet contentment for them.  He steps in a little further, clearing his throat, and they quickly part, Steve flushing a deep red as Tony turns, eyes wide.  “Father,” he says, his voice a little tight.

 

Howard fights with himself briefly before he says, “Tony.  What’s for dinner?”

 

Tony’s smile is instantaneous, and it blossoms warmth in Howard’s chest.  He hasn’t seen him this open in years.  “Mexican,” Tony says, giving Steve’s chest a light slap before he goes around the island back to the stove, “It’ll be ready in about a half hour.”

 

“We should eat in the sunroom.”

 

“Really?” Tony says, brightening.

 

Howard nods.  “I’ll have Angela get it ready.”

 

He turns out, and he hears Steve before he leaves, “The sunroom?”

 

“Just wait,” Tony says, “It’s my favorite room in the house.”

 

And so they finish up dinner, Angela coming in to get plates, glasses, and utensils, and she goes to fetch Maria and Howard when Tony lets her know dinner is ready.  While she’s gone, Tony and Steve carry everything into the sunroom, and Steve looks around in awe.

 

It’s toward the back of the mansion and extends off from it, this massive, circular room with windows covering every possible surface but the floor.  There’s a beautiful white table in the middle with wicker chairs around it, as well as sofas and armchairs spread around.  The sun is setting, casting the room in a gorgeous, golden glow, and it’s not cold despite the snow blanketing the backyard, which stretches for miles.  There are lights, though Steve can’t find their source, and a tall bookshelf.  Steve can imagine Tony curling up in here in the summer, working on his latest project or reading until he dozes off, and it’s a moment before he returns to the kitchen to help bring the rest of the food out.

 

When the table is finally set, full of delicious looking foods, the burritos the centerpiece, Maria and Howard arrive, Maria smiling brightly as she talks about the new show, and Howard looks happy and at ease.  “Wow,” Maria says when she sees the spread, “You two were busy.”  Tony just shrugs, grinning, and they sit to eat.

 

It’s a pleasant night.  Maria asks after their plans for tonight, lets Tony know she’s going to need him tomorrow to help move things to the gallery, which Steve offers to come along for.  Howard asks after their classes for next semester—Tony is beginning his physics major, so he’s taking the first of his advanced chemistry classes, the second advanced physics and third advanced calculus, a class in biophysics, philosophy, and the third and last French class while Steve is taking the second French class, the third and final painting and drawing, and his first art history class.

 

Steve makes a comment about him being ridiculous, so Tony starts yelling at him in French, and Steve finds he can understand most of it, so he starts yelling back, and Howard actually laughs quietly at their exchange while Maria shakes her head.

 

In the end, it’s a wonderful night, and after Maria and Howard have left, Tony tugs Steve over to one of the sofas because it’s starting to rain, and he loves listening to it.  Steve settles against the arm, and Tony drops down between his legs, resting against his chest as Steve winds an arm around him, the other bent up because Tony wants to hold his hand, and they lay like that, just enjoying the sound of the rain and the nearness of each other until Tony starts dozing and Steve kisses his mess of hair.  “Come on, sleepyhead, if you fall asleep now, you won’t later.”

 

“That is a true fact,” Tony says, and Steve laughs softly, pushing him upright.

 

“Wanna do yoga?” Steve asks, and Tony grins, so they leave the sunroom to get changed and find their mats, and then they come back to do yoga while the rain falls around them.

 

——

 

Steve ends up taking Bruce’s advice.  Four days before Christmas, he calls Tony after he’s thought about it too much, and he jumps straight to the point, “I need to talk to you about something.”

 

“I’m getting a haircut, I know it’s terrible,” Tony says.

 

Steve laughs, surprised.  “It’s not that, though thank you.  It was starting to look weird.”

 

“I know, it’s awful.  I’m actually on my way there right now.  What’s up?  Oh shit, am I in trouble?  Did I do something?” he asks, and Steve laughs again.

 

“Why, should I be worried that you did?  Are you guilty of something?” he teases.

 

“Don’t be an ass,” Tony mutters, “I’m always guilty of something.  Stop making me think of all the things you could possibly be mad about, tell me.”

 

“I’m not mad,” Steve says, sighing, “I ran into Bucky the other day at the bookstore, and we got to talking a little bit, and he asked me out for tea.  I want to clear the air with him, settle things, be able to be friends, you know?  I just wanted to make sure that you were okay with that, and, if you’re not, I’ll probably call you jealous, but I won’t go.”

 

“Just friends?” Tony asks, and he actually sounds a little worried.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, “I love you.  I have zero interest in pursuing Bucky anymore.  I want to be with you, _always_ , but I’d like to maybe be friends with him again, if that’s possible.”

 

“I mean,” Tony says, “I guess it makes me a little possessive, but I want you to be happy.  You should go.’

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah.  But I also think that you should stay over tomorrow night after the party because my four weeks is up,” Tony says, his voice getting a little lower, “And I miss you.”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, pausing halfway to his dresser.

 

“God, I miss you,” Tony says again, “I’m never having a heart attack again, this is torture.  I hate waiting, knowing I could be under you but not being allowed to, _fuck_ , now I’m hard.”

 

“Damn it, Tony,” Steve says, closing his eyes.

 

“Okay, no, I’m hanging up because I’m driving and you have things to do, and we’re not having phone sex because I _can’t_ , and it sucks so much, I’m gonna fucking crash my car or something, _bye_.”

 

He hangs up, and Steve rolls his eyes, going over to his dresser to get a shirt.  He calls Bucky to ask him if he’s free, and they agree to meet in thirty minutes at Jaho, so Steve gets ready, goes downstairs to talk with Sara for a bit, and then heads out.

 

It’s a little weird at first, but they fall back into a groove, catching up on each other’s lives.  Bucky is still single, though dating again, and though he asks about Tony, Steve doesn’t linger on the topic, and Bucky offers him a small, grateful smile in return.  By the time they’re parting ways, Steve feels good about things, and he decides to go two for two and calls Alex on his way home.

 

“Hey man!” Alex answers cheerily, “What’s up?  You pumped for practice today?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, “I was wondering if you wanted to go for that run beforehand.”

 

“Dude, _yes_ ,” Alex says, “Practice is at four, so I’ll meet you there at three, yeah?”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

“Awesome, can’t wait.”

 

Steve gets home, going into the living room in search of his mom, who’s watching her soaps while she taps away on her laptop.  “Hey,” Steve says, dropping down beside her, “Multiple questions.”

 

“Hang on,” she says, reaching forward for one of her files on the coffee table.

 

Steve waits until she’s finished and turned her attention to him before he says, “First, are we going to the Stark’s tomorrow for their Christmas party?”

 

“I think so,” Sara says, and then she sees Steve fighting not to smile, and she continues, “You want to stay over.”

 

“Can I?”

 

“Steve,” she sighs.

 

“Mom, I know,” he says quickly, “I promise to be home for Christmas Eve, though, and I’ll make sure Tony clears it with Maria first.”

 

“You’re making me look bad with your sisters,” Sara says, shaking her head, “Leah’s asked if she can go over Alex’s, and now I’ve got Riley asking if Alexis can sleep over, and it’s hard saying no to them when I’m saying yes to you.”

 

“Tell them they have to wait until they’re in college.”

 

“Leah’s known Alex longer than you’ve known Tony,” Sara points out.

 

“I’m older,” he says, “And more responsible, obviously.”

 

“You might be, Tony certainly isn’t.”

 

“I dunno,” Steve says, thinking back on the past few weeks, “Since the heart attack, he hasn’t done anything considerably stupid.”

 

“I hope so,” Sara says.  She sighs, and Steve smiles.  “You’re a brat,” she says, “You can go, but only if Maria says it’s okay.  Next question.”

 

“Do you think it’s possible for me and Bucky to be friends again?”

 

“I think anything’s possible, darling,” Sara says, laying a hand on his knee, “If you’re kind to him, he’ll be kind to you, and you can definitely figure things out.  How did tea go?”

 

“Great,” Steve says, nodding, “I’ve missed spending time with him.”

 

“And how does Tony feel about this?” Sara asks.

 

“He understands, actually,” Steve says, “It’s not like I have these grand plans to be best friends with Bucky again, but I kind of feel like I don’t have friends outside of Tony, Betty, and Bruce.”

 

“You’ve got the track guys now,” Sara says, “Aren’t you going out with them tonight?”

 

“Yeah, for dinner.  I’m actually meeting Alex early to run.”

 

“Be careful with him,” Sara says, picking up her laptop again, “From what I’ve heard, he’s got a thing for you.”

 

“Mom,” Steve says.

 

“I’m just telling you what I think,” Sara says, “Don’t come crying to me when he puts a move on you, and you don’t know what to do.”

 

Steve sits there for a moment longer before he says, “Okay.  Thank you,” and then he’s off.  He goes upstairs, digging out his phone as he does, and he dials Tony on facetime, who takes a while to answer.  When he does, he’s showing off his hair, and Steve smiles, looking it over.  “Looks good, hot stuff.”

 

“I am now a sex god again,” Tony says, bringing the phone down to reveal his face, “Please tell me you’re calling for yoga.  I hate sitting in those chairs, always makes me feel itchy.”

 

And that’s when Steve notices the noise.  “Are you in the shower, asslamp?” he says, and Tony just grins.

 

“Hooked up a projection from my phone.  I had to wash the gunk out of my hair,” he whines, and then he’s stepping under the spray, “Keep talking.  I’m not likely to jerk off right now.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes but goes over to his bed, dumping down.  He waits until Tony’s not looking before he reaches down, pressing a hand against his groin because just thinking about Tony naked and wet makes him hard, and he wants to be there, to press up behind him and slide inside.

 

“Okay, well,” Tony says suddenly, drawing Steve’s attention back, “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m definitely going to jerk off.”

 

“Sorry,” Steve says, blinking, “What are your plans for today?”

 

“Well, it’s getting close to show time, so I’ll be in the gallery most of the day, probably go out to dinner with my mom.  Speaking of moms—”

 

“I asked,” Steve cuts him off, “I can stay over.”

 

“ _Yes_!” Tony exclaims, doing a little dance before he returns to his shower, “How was tea with Bucky?”

 

“Good,” Steve says, “Better than I expected.  It was a little weird, but we had fun catching up, and it was nice talking to him again.  I think we might be able to be friends again, which I would appreciate.  I’m going to practice in a bit, though, so I don’t have much time to do yoga.”

 

“So you’re telling me to hurry up,” Tony says, “I thought you had practice at four.”

 

“I do, but I’m going early to run with one of the guys.”

 

“That’s awesome,” Tony says, smiling, “Are you making any lasting friends, Steven?”

 

“Don’t be a douche,” Steve says, so Tony makes an obnoxious noise and shuts off the water, stepping out.  The hologram follows him as he grabs a towel and heads out into his room, looping it around his waist.  “And yes, I’m making friends,” Steve continues, “I told you about the bolts, is what they call themselves, but I’m running with Alex today.”

 

“Alex?”

 

“Summers.”

  
“Dude,” Tony says, looking over at him, “Really?”

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“Scott’s little brother?”

 

“No,” Steve groans, “Why do you know him?”

 

“Johnny hates him,” Tony says, shrugging, “He thinks Scott’s a total dickface, though he’s never met Alex.”

 

“Did Johnny sleep with him?” Steve challenges.

 

“It’s likely,” Tony says, giving the hologram a flick before he drops his towel, and Steve inhales sharply when Tony’s naked body is suddenly filling his screen.  Tony grins at him, mischievous and terrible, and Steve wants to yell at him, but he can’t stop looking at him, at the curve of him.  His back dips just before the swell of his ass, and Steve loves how he holds himself when he’s being like this, his fingers finally still and his limbs moving with purpose.  He’s hard, and Steve stares because he can.  Tony slides a hand down, rubbing over himself, and Steve groans, shifting.

 

“Tony,” he says, a little breathless.

 

“Yoga,” Tony says suddenly, opening of his drawers and pulling out a pair of tight, black shorts.

 

“Fucker,” Steve mutters, and Tony laughs.

 

Steve leaves his phone on the bed to go dress for yoga, though, when he shimmies out of his jeans, his cock is straining against his boxer briefs, and he fights with himself for a second before shoving them down and curling a hand around his dick, giving it a slow tug that makes him gasp.  And then, an idea occurs to him, and he quickly locks his door before rifling around in his dresser until he can find a pair of shorts to match Tony’s.  He kicks out of his jeans and briefs, pulls the shorts on, yanks off his shirt, and then goes back to get his phone.

 

“Oh,” Tony says when he sees him, “That’s rude.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Steve says, and Tony makes a face at him.

 

They make a valiant effort at yoga.  They get through the entire routine, though they move quickly and don’t double up on any of the poses, and then Steve’s throwing his phone at the bed, grabbing his laptop, and pulling up the call there.  Tony’s already stepping out of his shorts and clambering onto his bed, taking a hologram out of his tablet as Steve lifts his hips and pulls his shorts down.

 

“Fuck,” Tony says when his cock comes out, hard and thick and beautiful, and he wants to be there, wants to slide his knees on either side, and fuck Steve until he’s begging to come.  “Steve,” Tony says, and he can’t believe he’s about to say this, “Steve, wait.”

 

“What?” Steve says, looking over at him in shock.

 

“What if—what if we didn’t?”

 

“Okay, fuck you, first of all,” Steve says, and Tony laughs.

 

“You sound like me,” he says, “But hear me out.  What if we didn’t, right, and then we waited until tomorrow night, okay, and it would be fucking _amazing_ because we hadn’t right now.”

 

“ _You_ ,” Steve says, sitting up, “ _You_ are trying to tell me that you could wait until tomorrow?”

 

“If—”

 

“You think,” Steve cuts him off, “that you could actually wait until I was there, until I could fuck you until you were screaming, until I _let_ you come?  You could wait until I was there to hold you down and make you beg for it, my cock in your ass, so deep that you were shaking from wanting it?  You could wait for that?”

                                                                                                                             

“Well _fuck_ , not if you talk like that,” Tony says, his eyes going wide and dark, “Jesus _Christ_ , Steve, where have you been hiding that?”

 

“I mean, if you want to.”  Steve grins, and it’s a Tony smile, feral and crooked, and it makes Tony groan.

 

“I actually really do now,” Tony says, “Steve, oh my god, it’s going to be so worth it.  Come on, let’s do it.”

 

Steve lifts a hand, rubbing his eyes before he sighs and says, “Okay, yeah.  Let’s do it.  Nothing until tomorrow night.”

  
“Nothing.”

 

“You better keep up your end, asshole,” Steve says, and then he reaches over to hang up.  He lets out a heavy breath, hand sliding down to his chest, and he just lies there, trying to think of anything _but_ Tony naked.

 

It’s going to be a long day.

 

——

 

Steve leaves around two, and he makes it to the school a little early, so he heads inside and dumps his things in his locker, taking out his phone to text Tony before he dresses, _hey, I’m at the gym for practice, so I’ll be busy until about six, and then I’m going out with some of the guys, but I’ll text you, yeah?  Have fun at the gallery, and be good._

He shrugs out of his sweatshirt after, and he’s just pulling on his running shorts when the door opens, admitting Alex.  “Hey, man, how’s it hanging?” he says, coming over.

 

“Good, excited to run.”

 

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” Alex says, grinning.

 

“Doubt it,” Steve says, reaching for his phone as it vibrates.

 

 _Be good my ass_ , Tony says, _I got this, butt cheeks.  Just be careful not to think about my dick while you’re running in spandex, might show off your package, WHOOPS_.

 

“Asshole,” Steve mutters, shaking his head, though he’s smiling as he puts his phone away.

 

“Everything good?” Alex asks.

 

“Yeah, just Tony,” Steve says, reaching for his shirt.

 

“Tony?”

 

“My boyfriend,” Steve clarifies.

 

“Right,” Alex says, and he is nowhere near discreet when he gives Steve a once over before he turns to his locker, “How long have you two been dating?”

 

“A few weeks,” Steve says, and it sounds weird, “We’ve known each other for a while, though.”

 

“Long time coming or something?”

 

“Yeah, kind of.  Do you have anyone?”

 

“Nope, I’m on the market,” Alex says, tossing him a grin over his shoulder, which Steve pointedly ignores.  He laces up his shoes while Alex gets ready, and then they’re heading out onto the track, stretching out before they set up.  “You ready?” Alex asks.

 

Steve smirks.  “On one?”

 

“Three,” Alex says.

 

“Two,” Steve says.

 

They look at each other, and then Alex says, “One.”

 

Steve hasn’t run like this in a while, as fast and hard as he can, and he misses it, misses the feeling of wind whipping around him as his knees come up, feet bouncing off the ground as he darts around the track.  He wonders, briefly, if Tony runs at all, makes a note to ask him later, and then he’s putting his all into beating Alex.

 

When they finish their two laps, Alex is breathing hard and Steve is a bundle of energy, letting out a whoop and grinning as they slow.  “You suck,” Alex says, coming up behind him, “Gimme a few minutes to catch my breath, and then we’re doing a mile.”

 

“You’re on, man,” Steve says, slapping hands with him, “That was awesome.”

 

They take a small break, chatting and cooling down before they return to do a mile, and Steve works out his body, letting himself get loose until he’s ready, and then they’re off.  Steve beats him again, and Alex starts swearing and whining until Steve’s laughing loudly.

 

Alex shakes his head, coming over and clapping Steve on the shoulder, fingers rubbing over the muscle there before he retreats, dumping down next to his bag.  “You’re killing me, man,” he says as Steve sits opposite him, legs straight as he reaches forward.  He starts to stretch out, but then Alex wiggles his fingers, and Steve takes his hands, stretching them both out.  When they’re done, the team has started to filter in, and Alex says, “So, you’re coming out tonight, right?”

 

“Yeah.  Thanks for inviting me.  It’s nice having friends outside of my school ones.”

 

“Anytime, Steve,” Alex says, smiling, “You’re pretty awesome, so.”  He shrugs and then stands, holding out a hand to help Steve to his feet.  “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” he asks.

 

“Christmas party with my family,” Steve says, “You?”

 

“Oh, uh—nothing, really,” Alex says, “Come on, Sam’s waving like an idiot.”

 

They part, Alex going to find his teammates while Steve makes his way over to Sam.  “Hey man,” Sam says, “So I was reviewing times the other day, and I wanna put you against Pietro today.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, I think you could actually give him a little bit of competition, which he sorely needs because he’s starting to get cocky.  That’s right, I’m talking about you,” he adds as Pietro starts making faces, “Stretch out, do some hurdles with Betty, and then we’ll have you guys run together.”

 

Practice goes well.  Pietro tries to run circles around Steve and then realizes he’s actually fast, and they race around the track, matching each other for a bit until Pietro pulls ahead.  Afterward, he knocks knuckles with Steve and says, “Dude, you’re good.  We should run more often.”  Steve nods, grinning, and he doesn’t see Alex frowning by the jumps.

 

Afterward, after they’ve hit the showers and gotten changed, they all pile into the twins’ car because it’s their turn to drive, and they head out to Olive Garden.  Steve texts Tony while they’re waiting for a table, _hey babe, how’s the gallery?_

He gets a response after they’ve been sat, and he’s against the wall, Sam next to him.  He digs out his phone, reading the message quickly, _it looks amazing, I’m so impressed with some of the new pieces she’s done.  I can’t wait for you to see it, you’re gonna love it.  How was practice?_

_Really good.  Went up against Pietro today, who’s our fastest sprinter, and actually made good time.  I miss being able to run like this._

“Hey,” Bruce says, and Steve looks up, “That the douche canoe?”  Steve laughs, nodding.  “Tell him to answer his goddamn phone instead of sexting you all the time.”

 

“He does _not_ sext me,” Steve says.

 

Betty laughs, “I’m surprised.  He used to flood Bruce’s phone with dick pics after he found out Bruce had a thing for him.”

 

“Yeah, I remember that,” Steve says, looking back down at his phone, “He spent hours on porn sites sending you the most obnoxious ones he could find.”

 

“Who’s this?” Sam asks, looking between them.

 

 _It’s good you got back into it, then,_ Tony sends back, _hey, is Bruce with you?  Tell him to stop calling me names, or I’m going to keep ignoring him._

“Steve’s obnoxious boyfriend,” Bruce says, “Our best friend.  What?” he adds when Steve laughs.

 

“He said to stop calling him names or he was gonna keep ignoring you.”

 

“That fucker,” Bruce says, digging out his phone.

 

 _He’s swearing at you now,_ he types back, _I’m gonna go, okay?  I don’t wanna be rude._

_Have fun, cutie patootie.  I’ll be thinking about your tush._

_You better._

He puts his phone away, then, even though Bruce is texting furiously, and Betty laughs when she peeks over and sees what he’s writing.

 

They spend a few hours there until everyone’s yawning, and then they head out.  It’s quiet in the car, and Steve starts to doze until his phone starts buzzing again, and he opens up the message, smiling when he sees Tony making a ridiculous face.  There’s another picture of one of the new additions to the _little hands_ collection, and then one Maria must have taken of Tony doing a shelf headstand.  Another one comes in as they’re pulling up in the parking lot, and Steve opens it up as he’s getting out, thanking the twins for the ride.  The picture is of Tony sprawled on the floor, pretending to be dead, and the caption underneath, _bored out of my noggin.  She’s starving me, Steve!_

He laughs softly before fishing around for his keys.  He waves when someone calls out to him, shouting his goodbye across the parking lot before he opens the door and settles in.  He turns the inside light on before opening up the camera on his phone, and he takes a picture of his tired smile and sends it over.

 

 _My handsome man_ , he gets back in response, and he smiles, turning the car on.  He’s in so deep, and he loves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, GUYS, GUYS. A cool thing has finally happened! Erin has finished editing the first video of _Long Distance Dialogue_ , which can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9RJODAmxLk), and part two [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJp1G0dpJpk). We’re very excited to be sharing a little part of our lives with you, and we hope you enjoy our first topic: Tumblr! I hope everyone is still enjoying this, despite the delayed updates. Work is getting much better now that I’m settled in, though I’m starting my training at another Club tomorrow. Thankfully, it’ll only be four days long, and I’m good friends with the guy I’m training with, but I can’t wait to just be the CSM at Danvers. It’s been tough jumping around and trying to figure things out, and I’ve enjoyed the past week as a manager in training, just learning the lay of the land. Anyway, that’s not what you want to hear about, and I don’t have any updates on the fic front, so I hope you enjoyed, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	37. Chapter 37

The night before Christmas Eve, Tony’s recruited to help get the mansion ready for the party.  He jury-rigs Jarvis into speakers hidden in the foyer and lets Cher leak out until it’s filling the first floor, and the entire staff is dancing while they work.  Maria sends him on various little jobs while she helps cook, though they keep getting distracted and end up dancing and singing in the kitchen.  By the time four o’clock rolls around, an hour before the party, they’re running behind, though, and so Maria hurries off to get ready while Tony finishes up the last of his preparation.

 

Upstairs, just before five, Maria looks over when the door opens, smiling when Tony enters, freshly showered, hair neatly styled, and dressed in a smart black and white suit.  He comes over, taking her necklace from her and stepping behind her, carefully fitting it on.  “You look beautiful,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, “Where’s dad?”

 

“In the lab.  Can you go let him know it’s nearly time for the party?” Maria asks, turning and smoothing her hands of the lapels of his jacket.  She drops a kiss on his forehead when he makes a face and says, “Bring his tux down for him, too.  I don’t think he’s changed.  Grazie, amore.”  She turns back to the mirror, so Tony goes to retrieve Howard’s tux and then heads back out.

 

“Hey Jay,” Tony says, tapping his ear, “You awake?”

 

“For you, sir, always.  How may I be of service?”

 

“Is my father in his lab?”

 

There’s a pause, and then, “Yes, sir.  Shall I inform him of your approach?”

 

“Nah, I should probably let him know I bugged the house before you spoil my surprise.  Also, let everyone know they have the next week off after tonight is over.”

 

“Of course, sir.  Does the order come from you?”

 

“My mother, preferably.  They’ll more likely believe it coming from her.”

 

Jarvis doesn’t respond, so Tony assumes he’s disappeared off around the house to find everyone and inform them.  He takes the stairs down into the foyer, goes to the right to Howard’s wing of the first floor, passes down a long hall that leads to a set of spiral staircases, and takes those into the lab.

 

It’s a massive, open room, with cars taking up the majority of the floor space, though there’s a raised platform of computer monitors circling each other.  There are a few tables with various projects spread out, tool cabinets, and a fully stocked liquor cabinet.  It takes a moment, but Tony spots his father, feet poking out from underneath one of his prized cars, and he walks over, dropping the tux bag on one of his desks as he goes by.

 

“Father,” Tony says quietly as he approaches.

 

“Anthony?” Howard asks, his voice muffled.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Hand me a wrench,” he says, and Tony goes over to his toolbox, squatting.  He sifts through until he finds what he’s likely looking for, and knocks it against his knee lightly before stretching his arm out.  Howard takes it, muttering his thanks, and it’s quiet for a few moments as Tony stands and folds his arms over his chest until Howard says, “What time is it?”

 

“Nearly five.  Mamma asked me to come get you.”

 

Howard makes a quiet, disgruntled noise and says, “I will never understand why you’ve reverted to calling her that again.”

 

Tony doesn’t respond, just waits while Howard keeps tinkering until he hands back the wrench, Tony takes it, and then he pushes out from under the car, lifting a hand to wipe at his face.  “Try the engine,” he says, and Tony obeys, going around to the side of the car and carefully dropping behind the wheel.  The key is already in the ignition, so he turns it, and Howard grumbles angrily when it turns over a few times.

 

He starts to lie back down when Tony says, “Dad.”

 

“You’re right,” Howard sighs, pushing to his feet, “Your mother is terrifying when she’s angry, though I always wonder at her anger when it comes to things like this.”

 

“How do you mean?” Tony asks as Howard kicks his toolbox shut and then heads over toward the small bathroom.

 

“She hates these events,” Howard says, shrugging, “I never understand why she puts up with it.”

 

“Never?” Tony says quietly, staring at his back.

 

He knows Howard hears him, though, because his shoulders tighten a little.  He continues on toward the bathroom regardless, and Tony waits a minute after he’s closed the door before he starts to let himself out.  He’s at the door when Howard reappears.  “Tony,” he says softly.

 

Tony turns, fingers curled around the door handle, and he wants to ignore him, wants to push through, but Howard is looking at him in a way he hasn’t seen since he was little.  He lingers, waiting, and then Howard sighs, dragging a hand through his hair as he comes over.  He looks so much older than Tony remembers, and _tired_.

 

He stops before him, hands twitching at his sides briefly before he lifts them to Tony’s shoulders.  He opens his mouth as if to speak, and then sighs, taking his hands back and stuffing them in his pockets.  “I never know what to say to you,” he says, and Tony blinks.

 

“What?” he says, and he means to say something more intelligent, but he’s so baffled by this behavior that it catches him by surprise.

 

“You grew up so fast,” Howard says, “I don’t know how I missed it.”

 

“Missed what?”

 

Howard takes one of his hands out and lifts it again, fingers curling around Tony’s jaw.  He holds him there, a careful, fond touch, just looking at him until he says, finally, “You became a man.”

 

He doesn’t give Tony time to respond.  He releases his face and then crosses the lab to his tux bag, unzipping it.  Tony lingers a few moments longer before he turns out of the lab quickly, the door shutting hard behind him, but he can’t be bothered by the noise.  He doesn’t mean to burst out into the foyer, but he feels like he’s choking, and he needs air.

 

Some of the guests have already begun to arrive, the Rogers’ among them, and Maria is playing hostess, looking beautiful in a long green dress.  She looks over at Tony’s eruption, frowning, but continues to talk, seeing something there that she knows he wants to hide.

 

He makes a beeline for Steve, who starts to brighten and then sees his face, and he excuses himself from his family, bending to promise Emma she can say hello to Tony later.  When he turns, Tony is nearly upon him, so he steps away, reaching out for him.  “Not here,” Tony says, grabbing his hand and tugging him away.

 

Tony pulls them over toward the door and out into the night where he gasps in a breath, releasing Steve’s hand and walking away quickly.  Steve lets him go, following at a slower pace until Tony pauses, and then he takes long strides until he reaches him in time for Tony to turn and croak, “ _Steve_ ,” and he’s there to hold him.

 

Steve folds Tony away in his arms, rubbing his back as he presses a kiss to his temple.  “What happened?” he whispers, leaning their heads together.

 

“Just—just—I shouldn’t— _god_ ,” he says, pushing away from Steve and pacing, “I shouldn’t let him get to me like that.  I shouldn’t let myself believe that it could ever be different.  I keep falling for his trap, just like my mother.  He’s so charming, and he always knows the right thing to say, no matter the situation, and it doesn’t matter that I’m his _son_ , I’m just another fucking piece of merchandise that he needs to bend to his will, another stubborn client that he needs to move in his direction, another—another _thing_.  I am materialistic to him,” Tony snaps, turning to face Steve, “I am a name, a fucking heir to his throne, and I will never be _Tony_ because, to him, I’m _Anthony Stark_ , and _fuck him_ for saying that, that he doesn’t know how he missed my entire fucking life.  You wanna know how?  Because he was too busy screwing every attractive woman that dared try to show him just how intelligent they could be because women are just _tools_ to him, and he sleeps with them because he can’t mold my mother to his liking because she’s too strong for him.  But it doesn’t matter because even when she _won’t_ sleep with him, even when she refuses him, he shows his prowess and takes what’s his because we are just _belongings_ to him, Steve, and I—I—oh god, I shouldn’t have said that.”  Tony steps back abruptly, eyes wide, because Steve is looking at him like he has four heads.

 

“Tony,” Steve says softly, his shocked expression dissolving into a frown, “He—”

 

“No,” Tony says, lifting a hand, palm out, “No.  I didn’t say anything.”

 

“Tony, if he’s—”

 

“If he’s _what_?” Tony snaps, and he doesn’t mean to, but every time he has this conversation with Maria, she always ends up crying, and he needs to get this out, needs to let this beast claw its way out of him.  “The only thing he has ever been—” Tony hisses, venom dripping from his voice, “—is a violent alcoholic, and I owe him no sympathies.  I will not fall for this again.  I will not let him think that he can twist his poison words and make me believe that he’s _better_ , that he might not hit his wife or his son again, that he could actually stand to be in our presence without loathing the sight of us because all we do is remind him of his continuing failure at being anything but a dehumanized piece of _shit_.”

 

Tony starts to storm away, but Steve grabs him, pulls him in close before Tony can react, and Tony tries to punch him, tries to kick out and away, but Steve winds his arms tightly around him and presses his words into his ear, “You’re okay.”

 

“I’m _not_ ,” Tony growls, and Steve just kisses his ear.

 

“I know,” he says, and Tony lets out a shuddering breath, sagging against Steve.

 

——

 

They stay outside until more guests start arriving, and then, though Steve checks under his eyes, Tony hasn’t cried, and so he cups his face and kisses him until his heartbeat starts to slow.  They head back for the front door, and they’re just stepping inside when Tony reaches for Steve’s hand, winding their fingers together.  He lifts their laced hands and kisses Steve’s knuckles, whispering against his skin, “I love you.”

 

Steve reaches over and kisses his temple, whispering it back, “I love you, too.”

 

And then they’re inside, and Emma starts fidgeting, so they go over to her, and Tony drops to a knee, hugging her tightly.  When he stands, Leah nearly lunges at him, and he laughs, embracing her.  Riley sneaks in before Leah’s even fully let go.  “Alright,” Tony says when he steps back, “What’s going on?”

 

“Steve told us what happened,” Riley says, “We were so afraid you weren’t going to be here.”

 

“Hey now,” Tony says, shrugging, “I’m okay.  I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

 

“Pinky promise?” Emma says, holding up her hand.  Tony looks down even as Leah and Riley hold out their pinkies, as well, and he laughs, nodding.

 

“Pinky promise,” he says, hooking pinkies with each of them, “Now—”

 

“Oh, Tony,” Sara says suddenly, coming over.  He turns in time for her to hug him, and he returns it, smiling.  When she releases him, she lifts her hands to his face, cupping it.  “We were so worried about you,” she says, “Have you been for your final check-up yet?”

 

“The other day,” Tony says, nodding, “Got the all-clear.  Oh no, _mamma_ ,” he adds, shoulders lifting because he can just _feel_ her, and then Maria’s looping her arms around his waist and hugging him from behind, dropping a smacking kiss on his cheek.  “Come on,” he says, trying to squirm away from her, “Did you get lipstick on my face?”

 

She reaches up a hand, wiping it away as Sara laughs.  “Are you okay?” Maria whispers as she presses a softer kiss to his hair.  He nods, and so she releases him, stepping around him to greet Sara.

 

They mingle for a while, though Tony intends to stay with Steve and his sisters until dinner, but then Howard calls for him, and he excuses himself, going over to his father.  He smiles pleasantly as he approaches him, letting Howard reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder when he comes up next to him.  “Anthony, this is Natalia Romanova and Ivan Vanko.  Natalia is the daughter of Stark Industries’ Russian associate, and Ivan is her cousin.  They’ll be starting at UMF next semester.  Anthony has already completed his major in engineering and is currently working on a physics major.”

 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Tony says, holding out a hand.

 

Ivan takes it, his gaze hard and cold as he stares at Tony.  He’s big, with broad shoulders and dark hair brushing his shoulders, a thick beard, and a permanently angry set to his eyebrows.  “Ivan is also studying engineering, Anthony,” Howard says.

 

Tony nods.  “What year are you?”

 

“Third,” Ivan grunts, and then steps back, eyes narrowing a little.

 

“Okay,” Tony says softly before he turns to Natalia, who is watching him, her gaze cool and indifferent, one of her perfectly curved eyebrows quirked up.  She’s beautiful, with short, bright red curls hanging around her jaw, sharp green eyes, and a slim black dress that shows off her curves.

 

“Is Anthony long for anything?” she asks, reaching out a hand.

 

Tony takes it, allowing a small smile.  “Tony,” he says.

 

“It suits you better,” she says, “I do hope I’ll be seeing more of you at school.  And your boyfriend,” she adds, gaze flicking over to Steve.

 

Tony blushes, Howard looks away, and Ivan levels Tony with a smirk so violent looking that he winces.  “I hope to see you, as well,” he says tightly, though he thinks it might be a lie.

 

Howard starts to try to amend the awkward situation, but Maria calls for dinner, and Tony quickly makes his exit after flashing a dazzling smile at Natalia and Ivan.  “Who were they?” Steve asks when he reaches him.

                               

“I’m fairly certain the woman, Natalia, is the daughter of a Russian mob boss who also happens to be CEO of one of our Russian associates, and the man, Ivan, is fucking terrifying and also her cousin.  Well, Natalia’s terrifying, too—I think she could probably kill me without blinking if she wanted to.  Hey,” he says when they enter the dining room, “You’re staying over tonight, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he starts to turn away to sit with his family when Tony lifts onto his toes, tugging Steve back, and he kisses him, lightning quick before he’s grinning and heading off to sit by his father.

 

Dinner is thankfully harmless.  Natalia ends up sitting next to Emma, and Tony watches them carefully, though Emma’s star struck with Natalia’s accent, and Tony deflates a little when he sees Natalia smiling down at Emma, ever the charmer.  Ivan sulks most of dinner, though he glares at Tony occasionally, who does his best to avoid his gaze.

 

After, Howard leads the men off, and Tony starts to go for Steve when Maria appears at his elbow, fingers circling it and holding him there.  “Take Natalia and Ivan up with you, and be careful.”

 

“Not be good?” Tony says, looking over at her.

 

“Well, of course be good,” Maria says, hand releasing his elbow to tug on his ear, “But don’t piss them off.  I know how you are.”

 

“Right, because then we might all die at the hands of a Russian syndicate—”

 

“ _Tony_ ,” Maria hisses, yanking on his ear again.

 

“Mamma,” he whines, jerking away from her, “I get it, stop.”  He rubs his ear, frowning at her until Maria leans up, kissing his forehead.

 

“I just love you,” she says, kissing his cheek.  When she retreats, she smiles, lifting her hand to trace the shell of his ear.  “Is Steve staying over tonight?” she asks.

  
“Is that okay?”

 

“As long as Sara’s fine with it, I don’t care.  I’d like to spend Christmas with you, though.”

 

“He’s going home tomorrow, just staying tonight.  Thank you, I love you,” Tony says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek before he leaves her, smiling when Maria holds onto his hand until he’s out of her reach.  She watches him go until one of the wives approaches her, and then she plasters on her smile and graciously leads them out of the dining room.

 

Tony gives them a mini tour on the way up to his bedroom, and then, once upstairs, he goes over to his nightstand, pulling open the top drawer as the girls scatter.  Leah disappears into the bathroom, Riley flops down onto one of the beanbags toward the other end of the room, and Emma grabs Natalia’s hand and says, “You have to see Tony’s closet, it’s so big!”  She tugs Natalia after her into the closet, and Tony laughs, looking over at them.  Steve went out to get his things, so he’s alone with Ivan when the door closes.

 

“What year are you, fag?” Ivan asks, and Tony straightens, turning.

 

“Excuse me?” he says, brow furrowing.

 

“You heard me.”

 

He remembers his mother’s words, and he swallows down an insult he’d really love to throw back at him, instead saying, “Sophomore,” before he turns back to his nightstand, finding the rest of his meds.

 

“Your father said you had already finished your engineering major.  How?  Are the American school systems that awful?”

 

“Yes, but I also happen to be a certified genius, so it helps,” Tony mutters, taking the pills.

 

Ivan grunts his disbelief, Tony ignores him in favor of finding his phone so he can text Betty and Bruce through their group chat about his rude guest.  The door opens a few moments later, revealing Steve, who drops his backpack at the foot of Tony’s bed and then flops down, groaning.  “What?” Tony says, coming over and sitting next to him.

 

Steve throws out an arm, hand landing on Tony’s thigh, and Tony smiles, lacing their fingers together.  “I have a headache.”

 

Tony hums, kissing his knuckles before releasing his hand and shifting until he can get Steve’s head in his lap.  “We should watch something lame tonight,” he says, slowly rubbing his fingers over Steve’s scalp.

 

“Lame?” Steve echoes.

 

“Well, lame to you.”

 

Steve smiles, closing his eyes.  “Documentary?”

 

“There’s a new season of _Wild Things with Dominic Monaghan_ ,” Tony says, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

 

“I love that show,” Steve says before he yawns.

 

Natalia steps out of the closet, Emma following her, still chattering on, at the same time Leah exits the bathroom.  “Stop being awful,” Natalia snaps to Ivan, who rolls his eyes and stalks out of the room.  She lets Emma lead her around the room as Leah climbs over Steve and sits with her back against the wall.

 

“He’s scary,” she says, and Tony nods fervently, looking over at her.

 

“He called me a fag,” Tony says, and Steve bristles, so Tony slaps his jaw lightly, “Stay put.  He’s an asshole, it’s whatever.  I can’t figure out Natalia, though.”

 

“I thought she scared you,” Steve says.

 

“She does, but Emma’s managed to charm her.”

 

“Emma charms everyone,” Leah says bitterly.

 

“Oh no,” Tony says, his voice heavy with fake pity, “Are you jealous of the attention your adorable little sister gets?”

 

“Shut up,” Leah mutters.

 

“ _Leah_ ,” Tony whines, stretching out her name, and she makes a face at him, trying to hide her grin.  “Come on, hot stuff, tell me about life.  How’s Alex?”

 

“Good,” she says, brightening, “We just celebrated our ten month anniversary.”

 

“No way!” Tony exclaims, lifting a hand for a high five, “That’s awesome, Leah.  How does stupid brother Steve feel about it?”

 

“I’m right here,” Steve mumbles.

 

“Lies and propaganda,” Tony says, scratching lightly, “You’re in a state of hypnosis, be quiet.”

 

“Probably,” Steve agrees.

 

“He’s gotten better about it,” Leah says, looking down at Steve, “He doesn’t ask him about his intentions anymore.”

 

“Oh, you didn’t,” Tony says, stopping, and Steve opens his eyes, pouting.

 

“Tony,” he says.

 

“You are a horrible brother.  I hate you empathetically,” Tony says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

“You don’t,” he says, and Tony can’t help it, he’s grinning before he realizes it, and he leans down, kissing him upside down.

 

“I don’t,” he presses the words into his mouth, “Your butt’s too cute.”

 

“It’s not cute,” Steve says, leaning his cheek against Tony’s thigh.

 

“It’s so cute,” Tony says when he straightens, “The cutest butt ever.”

 

“Okay,” Leah says, and Tony laughs, “You two are ridiculous, but I’m so glad you’re finally together.  It was so stupid watching you pine after him,” she directs this at Steve, punching his arm, and Steve makes a quiet noise of discontent, swatting at her.

 

They both laugh at him, and then Riley’s joining them, clambering up and over to sit next to Leah.  “And how about you, cutie patootie?” Tony says, reaching out to tickle Riley, who squeaks and kicks at him until he retreats, “How’s Alexis?”

 

“Good,” Riley says, shrugging.

 

“Oh no,” Tony and Steve say at the same time, looking over at her, “What’s wrong?”

 

“We, um—we—” Riley breaks off, looking away, and Leah gasps, immediately pulling Riley against her.

 

“Oh Riley,” she says, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“It only happened yesterday,” Riley mumbles, sniffing before she pulls away from Leah and reaches up a hand to wipe her face, “I was gonna wait until after Christmas to tell you.  I didn’t want to ruin it.”

 

“How did it happen?” Steve asks, reaching out a hand.

 

Riley takes it, shrugging again, her lower lip wobbling.  “She said she wasn’t sure if this was what she really wanted.  She said she wanted to try dating boys again and that she just wanted to be friends.  I don’t—I don’t understand,” she mumbles, “She told me that she loved me.  I thought she meant it.”

 

“I can beat her up, if you want,” Tony offers, and it does the trick.

 

Riley lets out a little laugh, looking over at him.  “Okay,” she says, and Tony smiles.

 

He starts to change the subject when Emma jumps onto the bed, bouncing until Steve groans, and then she flops down on top of him.  Tony leans forward and starts tickling her until she’s shrieking, and then he retreats, grinning when she glares at him.  Natalia carefully climbs up onto the bed, sitting next to Riley and folding her legs under her.

 

“What about you, Miss Romanova?” Tony asks, “What’s your poison?”

 

“Belladonna,” she says evenly, and Tony swallows down his surprised laugh, though his grin remains intact when she says, “Though it doesn’t really matter.  I like boys and girls, whatever happens to catch my eye first.”

 

“You sound like him,” Steve mutters.

 

“Hey, I’m a one-man show from now on,” Tony says, smacking Steve’s chest, who grunts and reaches up to pinch his thigh, which results in Tony yelping, legs jumping so he hits Steve’s head with one of his knees, and then Steve’s shoving him off the bed and taking his seat.  Tony mutters resentfully from the ground as the girls burst out into laughter.

 

Natalia is the only one who only smirks, and, when it’s quiet again, she says, “We should spar sometime.”

 

“Absolutely,” Steve says, reaching out a hand, “Steve Rogers, by the way.”

 

“Natalia Romanova,” she introduces, shaking hands with him.

 

Emma squeaks, hands slapping over her mouth.  “Say it again,” she says from behind her hands.  Natalia actually laughs and obeys, and Emma squeaks again.  “Your accent is so cool!” she exclaims.

 

Tony climbs back up onto the bed as Leah asks, “Can you speak Russian?”

 

“Русский является наиболее изысканный язык в мире. Я предпочитаю говорить на нем.  **(Russian is the most exquisite language in the world.  I prefer to speak it.)** ” she says, and the girls gasp.

 

Tony grins and says, “Я предпочитаю итальянский, но я понимаю, почему вы любите его. Очень интересно.  **(I prefer Italian, but I understand why you love it.  It is fascinating.)** ”

 

Natalia looks over at him sharply, and she’s quiet for a few moments before she says, “Your accent is a little off.”

 

“I know,” Tony sighs, “I’m working on it.”

 

“Your annunciation is fantastic, though.  Have you been studying the language long?”

 

“Officially, only a semester, though I was tutored in it while I was growing up.”

 

“What else?”

 

“Français, italiano, español, Latine, deutsch, português, și un pic de română,” Tony says, and the girls gape as Steve looks over at him.

 

“That many, really?” he asks.

 

“I was raised in Italian, and then tutored in the basics, but my father also wanted me to have a fundamental understanding of a few others, and some I’ve just dabbled in.”

 

“It’s impressive,” Natalia says, “Though easily matched.”  Tony nods in her direction, and so Natalia continues, “Français, italiano, español, Latine, română, svenska, suomalainen, український, og en liten bit av norsk.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, laughing, “That’s pretty amazing.  We’ll have to compare notes sometime.”

 

Natalia offers him a small smile, and though Tony’s still fairly terrified of her, he thinks he and Steve may have just made a new friend.

 

——

 

Tony remembers around nine.  He doesn’t know how he could have possibly forgotten—his four weeks are up, and they’d decided to _wait_ , and who ever thought it was a good idea to make Tony Stark wait for sex?  He tries desperately to forget that it was he who suggested it.

 

Howard will likely keep the men for another hour, though, which is why they’re all currently spread around on the floor, playing Cards Against Humanity.  Emma is begrudgingly sitting out, though Tony set her up with a movie and let her snuggle up in his bed, so she’s not really paying attention to them anymore.

 

He shifts, trying to hide the fact that his dick is slowly hardening, and that’s when he remembers he’s in his suit still.  “I’m out for a few rounds,” he says abruptly after he’s finished picking out his card.  He throws it down, curls a hand around Steve’s elbow, and tugs as he’s standing.

 

Steve drops a card down, as well, says, “Be right back,” and follows Tony.  “What?” he asks when Tony pauses by his dresser.

 

“I’m changing,” Tony says, grabbing a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt.

 

“Mm, good idea,” Steve says, going to retrieve his bag.

 

He follows Tony into the bathroom, and, as soon as the door is closed, Tony grabs at him, pushing him against the wall as he locks the door.  “Tony—” Steve tries to say, but Tony kisses him silent, stepping in close and pressing his body against Steve’s, who makes a choked noise when he feels Tony’s cock against his thigh.  “Tony,” he whispers, leaning away from him, but that just opens his neck for attack, and Tony trails his wet, hot mouth along his skin, fingers sliding over the buttons of his shirt.  “Tony, no, my sisters are literally on the other side of the door.”

 

“Not _literally_ ,” Tony mutters, pulling Steve’s shirt from his pants as he kisses down to his chest, trailing over cotton briefly before he steps back and starts yanking his own shirt open.  “Come on, shoulders, we’re in here to change,” he says, voice pitched low as he shrugs out of his button-up and tugs off his undershirt.  Steve stares as his naked skin is revealed, muscles fluttering in his stomach as he moves, and he reaches out a hand, fingers curling around Tony’s waist as he thumbs over his belly.

 

Tony darts forward again, undoing Steve’s belt.  “Tony,” Steve sighs, and he tries, he tries so fucking hard to stop him, but his hands still end up tangled in Tony’s hair, and he tilts him up, fuses their mouths together in a hard kiss, teeth scraping over his bottom lip as Tony gets his zipper down.  He shoves his dress pants down, and then he’s leaning in close, one hand cupping Steve’s cock, the other running up beneath his shirt, fingers coming up to flick over a nipple.  Steve gasps, forehead pressing against Tony’s as his fingers slide back down, scratch lightly over his side, and then he’s gone, dropping to his knees.

 

He takes Steve’s boxer briefs with him, biting his lip when Steve’s cock comes out, and he glances up at Steve, with his heavy-lidded eyes and red, open mouth, and then he licks his lips and leans forward, taking him in his mouth.  He swallows him down, hums when Steve’s fingers scratch over his scalp, a soft, muffled sound tripping out of him.

 

Steve lets him get away with it until he’s actually fucking getting away with it, Steve’s hips twitching toward him as he sucks in earnest, head moving under Steve’s fingers, lips tight around his dick, and then he pulls him back, groaning low in his throat when he looks down to find Tony looking up at him, his swollen, wet lips pulled down in a pout.  “Steve,” he says softly, trying to lean back toward his cock, but Steve holds him there, fingers tight in his hair.

 

“No,” he says, and Tony slumps back, sitting on his heels.

 

“I want your cock in my mouth, and you’re saying no?” Tony says, his eyes narrowing a little, “Steve.”  His voice is low and a little bit raw, and it makes Steve’s cock twitch.  Tony glances down at it, and then back up at him, teeth scraping over his bottom lip, and Steve swallows down a groan.  Tony lifts a hand because Steve’s still holding him back, curling it over his cock and pulling slowly.  He gives him a few tugs before he circles the head with his thumb, and then he says, “I want you to come down my throat.  I want to taste you there for the rest of the night.  I want you to walk away after and leave me hard as fuck, and I want you to think about it, how much I want you inside of me, and then, when it’s just you and me, I want you to fuck me like the world is burning down around us.”  He presses his thumb along the slit, and Steve is going to scream if he doesn’t stop.

 

So he pulls him farther away, and Tony makes a noise that sounds like a squawk and falls off his heels and onto his ass.  “No,” Steve says, and Tony guffaws, flopping backward.

 

“I’m so fuckin’ impressed with you right now,” Tony says, and Steve lets his head thud back against the bathroom wall.  His cock is _aching_ , and he wants nothing more than to haul Tony up and pin him against the wall, press inside him and stay there until they’re both gasping each other’s names, but instead, he takes a few, slow breaths, and then pulls his boxer briefs back up.

 

He starts changing while Tony’s still lying on the floor, though Tony reaches out, tapping his leg as he goes past him to get his backpack and says, “Grab me a cigarette.”

 

“My sisters,” Steve says pointedly.

 

“I’ll smoke in here,” he says, gesturing vaguely toward the vanity, “Come on, I need something to do with my hands if you’re not gonna let me suck your dick.”

 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Steve says, though he goes over to the vanity and rummages around until he finds a pack of cigarettes.  “Brush your teeth after?” he asks before he tosses it to him.

 

Tony grunts, so Steve throws him the pack and then goes through his backpack until he finds a pair of jeans.  He changes into those as Tony lights up, inhaling deeply, and he looks over in time to see smoke curling out of his mouth and nose, his lips in a smooth circle that Steve stares at until he grins, and he rolls his eyes, going back to his backpack to find a shirt.

 

Once he’s changed, he holds out a hand, which Tony takes, letting Steve help him to his feet.  “Stay in here,” he says before he kisses his forehead and then leaves.

 

Tony obeys, though he goes over to open a window before he starts changing.  He sits on the small windowsill, one leg hanging outside, the other pulled against him, and he’s just finishing his cigarette when there’s a knock on the door.

 

“Come in!” he calls, and it opens to reveal Leah.

 

“That’s bad for you,” she says as she steps in, leaving the door open.

 

“I’m aware,” Tony says, taking a last drag before he flicks it out the window, “Don’t ever even try it, you hear?  None of it, it’s all awful.”  He stops by her, kissing her cheek, and she smiles fondly as he walks past her.

 

Back in the room, Emma is sound asleep and the game has drifted off into Natalia braiding Riley’s hair while Steve lies on his front, texting.  “Who’s the unlucky recipient?” Tony asks as he nudges Steve’s shoulder with his foot and then goes over to check his own phone.

 

“Alex,” Steve says, “He’s bored.  His brother’s having a Christmas Eve party, but he’s not feeling well, so he’s skipping out.”

 

“The kid you ran with, right?” Tony clarifies as he opens a message from his mom.

 

“Mhm,” Steve says, distracted as he types, _maybe ask him if he’ll turn down the music a little?_

“People are starting to head out,” Tony says, setting his phone back on his nightstand and then crawling over to Emma, petting her face softly with the backs of his fingers.  “Emmie,” he whispers, smiling when she grumbles, her face scrunching up.

 

Steve watches him, smiling, and he starts to say something when he gets a message from Alex, _no, I don’t wanna ruin his fun.  I wish you weren’t busy tonight.  Is the party still going?  You should come keep me company._

Steve frowns at his phone for a few moments, and then looks up again, and he’s about to say something when he sees Tony snuggled up close to Emma, murmuring to her.  She’s whining at him, and Steve just smiles, watching them until his phone buzzes again, and he reads, _Steeeeeeve, this sucks._

He rolls his eyes and then rolls over onto his front, pushing up until he’s sitting.  He cracks his back as the bathroom door opens, admitting Leah, who waves when she sees him looking.  “Time to go?” she asks when she sees Tony.

 

“Yeah,” he says, laughing when Emma makes grabby hands, so he picks her up, scooting off the bed.  “You’re getting big, duckie,” he says, shifting her onto his hip as she loops her arms around him.

 

“Tired,” she mumbles, and Tony just smiles, rubbing her back as he heads for the door.  Leah, Riley, and Natalia gather their things, and Steve follows them out, leaving his phone in the room.

 

They go downstairs to transfer Emma to Joe, who hoists her up into the air, laughs when she whines at him, and then lets her drop back down against him, holding her easily.  They say their goodbyes to everyone, Sara hugging Tony tightly before she points a finger at Steve and says, “Be good, and come home tomorrow.”

 

“I will.  Thank you,” he says, embracing her.

 

When everyone’s gone, they walk with Maria and Howard upstairs, and Tony pauses on the second floor to hug Maria goodnight before they’re heading up to the third floor.  Tony leads the way into his room, and the door is barely closed before Steve’s grabbing him and spinning them.  Tony lets out a low laugh when his back hits the door, and he reaches over to lock it before Steve’s coming at him, bruising his mouth as he shoves down his sweats, groans loudly when he finds Tony naked underneath.  Tony starts to laugh again, but then Steve’s fingers are circling his cock, and he gasps, pressing closer to Steve as runs his fingers tightly over him.

 

When they finally part, gasping for air, Tony shoves Steve back and reaches for his jeans, yanking open the button even as Steve grabs at him again, pulls him away from the door, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, tilting him up so Steve can kiss him, biting his lip hard before he’s licking into his mouth.  Tony fights him for control, pushes and pulls at him until Steve’s backing them across the room before he turns and gives Tony a hard shove, rocking him back onto the bed.

 

“Okay,” Tony says, staring up at him with an open mouth and dark eyes.  Steve kicks off his jeans, one hand coming around to rub at his groin, and Tony just stares because holy _fuck_ , Steve is hot.  He wets his lips with his tongue, and then Steve’s leaning down to kiss him, his other hand coming down to slide over Tony’s cock, just touching lightly, not even close to what he actually wants, and Tony starts to whine when Steve goes to his knees, hands spreading his legs, and Tony shouts when he takes his cock in his mouth, sucking hard before he’s swallowing him down.  He fists a hand in Steve’s hair, the other bunching in the blankets behind him, and Steve _clearly_ knows what he’s doing because Tony’s wound up tight and trembling when he finally releases him, lips wet and red and swollen, Tony’s dick absolutely fucking _aching._

Steve nods toward the bed and grunts, “On your knees.”

 

“Fuck, okay,” Tony says, scrambling to do as he’s told.  He yanks off his shirt as Steve finishes undressing, grabs the lube from the nightstand, and then Tony presents himself, grins when Steve groans softly and runs a hand over his ass.  He starts to look back, but then Steve’s mouth is on his lower back, kissing lightly before he bites, and Tony muffles his cry as he bites his lip.

 

Steve bruises him with his mouth before he’s leaning back onto his heels, sat between Tony’s spread legs, and he slicks his fingers, taking a moment to appreciate Tony’s ass before he’s reaching forward, rubbing the pad of a finger over his entrance, waiting for Tony to whine before he slides it inside, grinning when he moans, hips rolling down toward him.

 

“Come here,” he says, and Tony goes, tipping up until Steve’s finger slides deeper, and his breaths come out hard.  He never thought he’d get him like this, so willing to do whatever he asked, and he thinks there’s probably something sad there, in how easily he obeys, how he reacts to being told what to do, but Steve pushes that away for later consideration and slides another finger inside.

 

“Tony,” he sighs, leaning forward to map out his shoulders with his mouth, “I missed you.”  Tony tries to say something, but Steve pushes a third finger in, and his voice hitches up into a whine as he rocks down onto Steve’s fingers, ass fluttering around them.  Steve stokes himself with his other hand lazily, licking over a spot on Tony’s shoulder before he bites it, and Tony shudders, trying to take Steve in farther.  “I need to be inside you,” Steve murmurs against his skin before he’s kissing over to his neck, and when he bites the nape, Tony moans, loud and beautiful, and Steve takes his fingers out, uncapping the lube again to slick his dick before he’s reaching for his hip.

 

He releases his neck, the skin angry and swelling with a forming bruise, but it’s his mark, and he kisses it softly before he shifts forward, the head of his cock pressing against Tony.  “Steve,” he whines, trying to push back, but he holds him where he is.

 

“Slowly,” Steve says, though he’s shaking from the effort as he eases inside him, and he lets out a gasp when his hips are snug with Tony’s ass as Tony settles in his lap, back pressed warmly against his chest, toes curled around his calves.

 

Tony turns his head, hand coming up to thread through Steve’s hair, and he’s got this wicked grin on his mouth when he looks at Steve.  “I don’t want it slow,” he says, his voice pitched low and dangerous, “I want you to fuck me until I’m screaming.  I want your cock—” he rolls his hips in Steve’s lap, easing up and then down, and Steve holds onto him tightly, not breathing, “—inside of me until I’m begging you to come, until I am _sobbing_.  I want to feel you when I wake up in the morning.  I want it hard, Steve, _please_.”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, exhaling, “Fuck.”

 

Tony reaches, kissing him, and Steve reaches around for his cock, jerking him slowly as they kiss until Tony’s pulling away with a sharp breath, and Steve releases his cock for his shoulder, pushing him away.  He goes, settling on his hands and knees, and Steve slides out of him until only the head of his cock is inside, watches the way the muscles in Tony’s back tremble, and then he slides back in, hips slapping against him so that Tony lets out a soft cry, fingers bunching in the blankets.

 

His head dips forward, his back a long line of taught muscles and the ridges of his spine, and it ignites a fire in Steve that only another thrust will satiate.  He fucks him hard and fast, looming over him with his fingers curled tightly around his hips until Tony’s whining, and then he leans down, kissing down his spine until Tony makes this soft, broken noise, and he bites, pulling a startled moan out of him.

 

He releases one of his hips to close a hand over his shoulder, panting as he leans his forehead against Tony’s back, chasing the heat of Tony’s ass as he shifts closer to him, pulls out only enough to gain momentum to roll back in hard, and Tony’s shaking apart at the seams, these strangled, high pitched moans tripping out of him.

 

“Steve,” he whines, starting to shift forward, and Steve straightens away from him, hand sliding down his back as Tony goes onto his forearms, gives him more of an angle, and Steve slams in, nails scraping over Tony’s back as the head of his cock rubs over his prostate, and Tony shouts, turning his head to press it against his arm.  “Fuck, Steve,” he groans, “I fucking love your cock.”

 

“Shit, Tony,” Steve pants, pushing against his lower back as his own back curls, and he can feel his orgasm trickling through him, pulling him tight until he’s right there, and Tony shifts again, lifting a hand back to jerk himself in time with Steve’s thrusts.  He flicks his wrist, thumb passing over the head of his cock, and he moans, ass tightening around Steve’s cock as he trips closer, feels heat pool in his belly.

 

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve says, and he can feel him drifting closer, his thrusts getting quicker and a little harder, and then Tony’s playing dirty, pushing up off the bed with enough force that his back hits Steve’s chest, and Steve grunts, arm coming up instinctively to wind around him.  “Tony,” Steve whines, cock twitching inside him.

 

“Not yet,” Tony pants, head tipping back against Steve’s shoulder, “Just—fuck, I wanna—I wanna feel you come inside me.”

 

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve moans, mouth coming down to kiss wetly at his neck, “Please, I’m so close.”

 

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony pleads, thighs shifting as his whole body gets taught, and Steve lets out a low growl, biting.  Tony comes with a loud cry, and he’s so hot and tight that Steve releases his neck with a gasp, coming as Tony presses back against him, shaking.

 

He’s so much, everywhere, and Steve wants to hold him here forever and soak him in, fuse their warm bodies together until there’s nothing left but them.

 

They come down slowly, Steve’s arms wound tightly around Tony, one hand bracketed over his chest, pressing against his sternum, Tony fingers digging into Steve’s arms.

 

“Shit,” Tony says, and Steve doesn’t mean to, but he laughs, pressing a kiss to his ear.

 

“Yeah,” he says before untangling them.  Tony tips away from him, whining softly when Steve slides out of him, and he drops onto his back, limbs splayed out.  Steve smiles and leans down toward him, kissing him, and Tony’s got this goofy grin when he pulls back.

 

“I’m not done with you,” Tony says.

 

Steve just laughs again and says, “I certainly hope not.”

 

They’re not.

 

An hour later, as Steve’s starting to drift, Tony crawls over, mouthing down his front until he’s taking Steve’s sleepy dick in his mouth and letting him harden on his tongue, grinning when Steve groans and slides his fingers through Tony’s hair.  He means to pull him off eventually, to pull him up toward him so he can kiss him and maybe roll over until he can slide one of Tony’s legs up and push inside, but then Tony’s reaching a hand back to rub lightly at Steve’s balls, and he forgets to do anything but enjoy the absolutely amazing head he’s getting.

 

Tony stops suddenly, though, and Steve looks down, a whine curling up through him until Tony’s reaching for the lube, and he says, “Just trust me, okay?”  Steve nods, swallowing thickly, and though he knows it’s good, he’s never actually had anyone inside of him before, but then Tony’s saying, “Just fingers, I’m not topping,” and he lets out a breath.  “Too lazy, remember?” Tony says, and Steve laughs.

 

He slicks his fingers, kisses Steve’s thigh, and then wraps his beautiful lips around his cock again until his nose is brushing his belly, and then he presses a finger against Steve’s entrance, rubs lightly before he’s easing it in, and Steve gasps, fighting to keep his hips down on the bed.  It’s weird, to say the least, and he has to take a few steadying breaths as Tony lets him adjust, and then he’s easing the second one in, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut.  Tony pulls back until he’s sliding the flat of his tongue over the head of his cock, and Steve moans, giving Tony an opportunity to shift, sliding in deeper, fingers stretching, and then he’s rubbing over Steve’s prostate, and Steve bucks, shouting.

 

Tony grins, releasing his dick as he sneaks his third finger in, presses lightly until he’s pressing in, and Steve whines, a low, wrecked sound in the back of his throat.  “Fuck, Tony,” he pants, and Tony just leans down and mouths back to curl a tongue around his balls, giving them some attention until Steve’s pulling at his hair, and he returns to his cock, putting his mouth to work until Steve’s nails are scraping over his head, and he fucks him with his fingers quickly, sucking hard until Steve’s coming with Tony’s name on his tongue.

 

After—after slowly pulling off, swallowing down Steve’s mess and then licking his cock clean, after he presses a warm kiss to his belly and slides his fingers out, after Steve pulls at him until he can kiss him, his mouth hot and lazy—Steve rolls them until Tony’s on his side, and he strokes him slowly, enough to keep him interested, though Tony keeps shifting closer until he’s begging Steve to just let him come, _please_ , and Steve kisses him hard and rolls him onto his back, lifts Tony’s legs into the air and fucks him slowly.

 

Tony comes screaming this time, one foot pressing against Steve’s shoulder, the other leg hooked over his other shoulder, and Steve’s vision goes black around the edges when he collapses against Tony, shaking.

 

“Sleep,” Tony mumbles after they’ve cleaned up and fallen into bed.  Steve tries to respond and just pulls Tony against him, burrowing a little until Tony’s smiling and kissing his jaw, and they’re asleep in seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this took so long to get up. I’ve just finished my third opening shift in a row, and I have two more left on the docket, and I’m just exhausted. I’m really, really enjoying the work I’m doing and learning how to manage the club, but it just sucks waking up at seven every morning. And I know that’s the norm, but for me, someone who does her utmost to stay up late and wake up late, this is killer. I haven’t been able to write anything in so long, and I have to be in by seven thirty tomorrow to meet a guy who’s fixing the self checks for me, so I have to get up earlier than usual, but I have two days off coming up, so I’m hoping I can get some personal time in. Anyway, the reason it’s up late is because I come home exhausted, have to go out shopping cos I still don’t have enough work clothes, and then immediately fall asleep. Whatever, welcome to the real world. I’m not complaining, really, because, like I said, I’m really enjoying it, I’m just tired. I’ll try to get the next chapter up in a more timely manner, but, in the meantime, don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	38. Chapter 38

Christmas morning, Howard wakes alone.  He’s used to Maria’s side of the bed being empty and cold, but it’s been so nice between them since she and Tony returned from France that he’d hoped he might wake up with her this morning.

 

And so, he showers and dresses in silence before taking the stairs to the third floor, going down the hall and into Tony’s room.  He can see the long, beautiful trail of Maria’s dark hair when he enters, fanning over the soft round of her shoulder.

 

She’s singing softly—Cher, of course—and there’s a noise that he remembers too well from Tony’s youth.  He crosses the room in quick strides, Tony’s labored breathing getting louder as he carefully sits on the edge of his bed.  Maria is rubbing slow circles over his chest, Tony’s eyes closed, though he doesn’t look like he’s in pain.

 

“Is he asleep?” Howard asks softly.

 

“Yes,” Maria says, “Woke up in a panic.”

 

“Nightmare?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“He hasn’t had one in years, I thought.”

 

“They come and go.  He hasn’t had one since high school.”

 

Howard doesn’t respond, instead stares down at his son, wondering if everything from high school followed him into college.  He’s overheard multiple conversations with Maria that leads him to believe so, but he’s always had trouble imaging someone overpowering Tony, his strong, stubborn son.

 

“Is he in pain?” Howard asks after a while of silence.

 

“No, just anxious.”

 

“Maybe he should take his bipolar medication.  It will stabilize his moods and help him out of a possible low,” he adds when Maria sighs, “It’s not a false diagnosis, Maria.  His nightmares always come back when he’s low.  It’s—”

 

“Hereditary,” Maria cuts him off, her voice sharp, “Maybe you should take yours.”

 

Howard sighs, “I am.”

 

Maria looks over at him quickly.  “Since when?”

 

“When you left for France.”

 

Maria smiles and holds out a hand.  Howard takes it, letting her kiss his knuckles.  “Thank you,” she whispers.  Tony emits a soft noise, and they look over, Maria taking her hand back to brush her fingers over his face.  “Good morning, darling,” Maria says as he yawns.

 

He grumbles, and Maria smiles, fingers threading through his wild hair.  “Early,” he grunts as he reaches up to rub at his eyes.

 

“It’s Christmas,” Maria says, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

 

He brightens immediately, looking over at her with a wide, open smile before he turns to Howard and says, “Is it ready?”  Howard nods, and Maria looks between them, her brow furrowing in confusion.  “Come on, presents,” Tony says, scrambling up and poking at Maria until she gets up.

 

Tony hurries off into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth before he takes his pills, and then they’re all heading out, going downstairs into the living room where the tree he and Maria decorated a few days ago is standing tall.  Beneath it are a scattering of wrapped presents, and Tony heads for them immediately, pausing only to kiss Maria’s cheek before he’s dumping down before them.

 

Howard sits with Maria, drawing an arm around her, and she smiles, snuggling close to him, watching Tony unwrap his presents until he reaches for a small envelope, and she says, “Aspetta!  **(Wait!)** ”  He stops, looking over at her.  “Come over here.  I want to see your face.”

 

“Bene,” he says slowly, standing up and coming over.  He sits on her other side, facing her, legs folding into a full lotus as he carefully opens it.  He takes out the two tickets inside and just stares at them.  “Mamma,” he says, his voice cracking, and then he falls off the sofa.  “ _OH MY GOD_!”

 

Maria bursts out laughing, clapping her hands together excitedly as Tony makes ridiculous noises into the floor.  “I think I’m going to die!” he exclaims loudly.

 

“What is it?” Howard asks, looking between them.

 

Tony rolls onto his back and looks up at Maria, and there are actually tears in his eyes.  “Davvero?  **(Really?)** ” he says, and Maria nods, beaming, “Mamma, oh mio dio.”  She leans away from Howard as Tony gets to his feet, coming over and hugging her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder, still clutching the tickets.

 

When Tony finally regains his composure, he sits next to Maria again, but he’s still grinning like an idiot, and Maria starts laughing again, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.  “Quando è?   **(When is it?)** ” he asks, wiping his face.

 

“Il tuo compleanno, in realtà, **(Your birthday, actually.)** ” she says, and Tony falls apart again.

 

“Oh my god— _oh my god_.  I just—I can’t— _mamma_ ,” and that’s when Howard catches on.

 

“Are you going to see—” he drifts off, looking between them.

 

“The queen,” Maria says, lifting a hand to dab at her eyes as Tony lets out a strangled noise, slumping against her.

 

“I love you,” he mumbles.

 

Maria winds her arms around him, kissing his mess of hair.  “I love you, too,” she whispers into his hair.

 

When they straighten, Tony lets out a soft laugh and wipes his face again.  “Cher, mamma,” he says, “We’re really going to see Cher.”

 

“I know!” she squeaks, dancing in her seat a little before she smacks Tony lightly, “You don’t even know how hard it’s been keeping that from you.  I bought them while we were in France, Tony.  It’s been absolute torture.”

 

“ _Mamma_ ,” he groans, covering his face with the tickets, “ _Cher_.”

 

Maria _giggles_ , and Tony snorts, looking at them again before he says, “Bene.  Okay.  I’m done.  Dad, do you have the—” he breaks off, giving him an imploring look, and Howard nods, reaching over to the table next to the sofa and taking out his tablet.

 

Tony goes back over to the tree, taking his tickets with him, and he retrieves a similar envelope from the tree, bringing it back over.  “Did you do something together?” Maria asks, baffled.

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, sitting down again, “Collaboration is what the Stark men do best.”

 

“Worst,” Maria corrects, “Always too stubborn to take ideas from anyone else.”

 

“Be that as it may,” Howard says, pulling open a hologram on his tablet and extending it so it hovers above it.  He opens it up, hands coming outward, and Maria blinks at it, unsure what she’s looking at it.  “This—” Howard says, glancing at her, “—is our new summer home in Italy.”

 

“Where you and I will be spending the summer, and dad will be joining us in July,” Tony says, holding out the envelope.

 

“Really?” Maria gasps, looking between them quickly.  Tony nods, and she takes the envelope from him, opening it up to find plane tickets for four.  “For Steve, I hope,” she says, noticing the number.  When Tony nods, Maria smiles widely.  “Boys,” she says, and then she’s returning her gaze to the hologram.  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she says, “When did you find the time to do this?”

 

“Construction started just after you left for France, and it will be finished next month.  These are the specs, but they’ve been sending over pictures.  It looks amazing.”

 

“I can’t wait to see it,” Maria says before she reaches forward, giving the hologram a flick so it drops back into the tablet.  Howard puts it down as she turns to him, and she kisses him softly before turning to Tony and hugging him.  “Thank you so much.”

 

They sit for a while longer, talking about the house, before Tony starts whining about being hungry, so they separate, Howard to his office and Maria and Tony to the kitchen to cook.  “Are you and Steve exchanging presents?” Maria asks before slapping Tony’s hand away so he’ll stop stealing mushrooms.

 

“Yeah,” he says, “But he made me promise to get him something simple.”

 

“Did you listen?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony says, sticking his tongue out, so Maria tugs on his ear.  “You’re so awful,” he grumbles, swatting at her.

 

“Come on, then,” Maria says, “What did you get him?”

 

“Stuff.”

 

Maria rolls her eyes and turns to him.  “Don’t be impossible,” she says.

 

Tony shrugs, not meeting her gaze, and Maria smiles, watching him.  It’s rare she gets to see him be shy, and she always enjoys the small moments.  “We’re not exactly doing presents,” he says quietly, poking at his eggs, “We’re exchanging experiences.”  He falls quiet, and Maria’s smile widens as she watches him.  Finally, he shrugs again and says, “I’m taking him out to his favorite restaurant, and then we’re going to the beach, and stop looking at me like that because it gets dirty after that.”

 

“Oh, it’ll be so cold, though,” Maria says, rubbing her arms and turning back to the stove.

 

“I took care of that,” Tony says, his grin sliding back into place, “Heated tent.  We’re spending the night.  Not illegally,” he adds when Maria gives him a look, “There’s a small section of private property, and I know a guy.”

 

“He said simple, Tony,” Maria reminds him.

 

“I _know_ , and that’s why the rest of the night is up to him.  I don’t know what it is yet, obviously, but he knows we’re going to the beach at some point, and he said he has something for that.  I hope it’s fireworks.”

 

“Really?”

 

“That would be so cool!” Tony exclaims, his grin getting a little wild, “Really?  You’re surprised?  Have you seen me with a blowtorch?”

 

“Pyro,” Maria mutters, and Tony laughs.

 

They finish up breakfast, Tony goes to retrieve Howard, and then they sit in the sunroom together, talking and laughing and planning out their day until Tony’s just watching his parents interact, and he’s not sure he remembers the last time things were so good between them.

 

——

 

After presents and after breakfast, Steve does yoga with Leah, who’s progressing amazingly with her poses, and he agrees to try some partner yoga with her, which is a little more calmed down from acroyoga.  They don’t get far, though, because then her phone is ringing, and she spends the next hour fighting with Sara and Joe because she wants to go over Alex’s for the rest of the day.

 

A half hour has passed when he thinks that things have settled, though, and he takes drink orders from Riley and Emma before going into the kitchen.  Sara is talking quietly with Leah when he comes in, and Leah explodes, “It’s not fair!  Steve stays over Tony’s all the time!”

 

“Leah,” Sara tries.

 

“No, it’s so—so— _fucked up_!” she screams, “I’ve known Alex longer, and you won’t even let me go over there for a couple hours!  I’m not even asking to stay the night, though I should be!  Steve just did at Tony’s!  Why can’t I?”

 

“Leah,” Sara says sharply.

 

Steve grabs waters and a juice for Emma out of the fridge, and starts to hurry out when Leah snatches a hand out, fingers curling around his arm.  “Tell them,” she says, pulling him over, “Tell them it’s not fair.”

 

“Leah,” he says, frowning, “I don’t—it’s different.”

 

“No, it’s fucking not!” she screams, throwing herself off the stool at the island and folding her arms across her chest.

 

“Watch your language!” Joe snaps.

 

“Watch _my_ language?  Maybe you should talk to Riley about language!” Leah snaps right back, and Steve sighs, looking over at Sara.

 

“Go,” she says, and he hurries out, going back into the living room where Emma’s playing with her new toys while Riley texts furiously on her phone.  Steve turns the TV on, flipping around until he finds a Christmas cartoon, and he digs out his phone as Leah keeps yelling.  He opens a message to Tony, typing out, _Merry Christmas, assholate.  Get anything good?_

The response is a little delayed, but it comes eventually, _I HAVE TO TELL YOU IN PERSON BECAUSE I’M STILL FREAKING OUT.  ALSO, MERRY CHRISTMAS, ASSLAMP._

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he responds, _okay, weirdo.  I hope yours is quieter than mine.  Leah is currently having a screaming match with my parents._

_Ick, about what?  Going over Alex’s again?_

  1. _It’s weird, though.  My parents are acting strange about it.  Usually, they’d let her.  They only fight about her staying overnight, but she just wants to go over there, and they’re being really quiet while they’re trying to talk to her.  Something’s up, I think.  Are we still on for this weekend?_



_Definitely, hot stuff.  It’s gonna be amazing, I’m so excited.  Did you get the okay from your parents?_

_Yeah, hopefully it still stands._   He starts to type more, but then Riley sighs and comes over to the sofa, sitting next to Steve.  “Can I tell you a secret?” she whispers.

 

Steve’s mutes the TV before putting away his phone, nodding.  “Yeah, what’s up?”  Riley reaches around him, turning the volume back on before she grabs Steve’s arm, lifting it up so she can scoot closer.  She tucks up against him, gripping her phone tightly, and Steve runs his hand over her arm, frowning.  “Riley, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

 

“Leah made me promise not to tell,” she mumbles, not looking up at him.

 

“You don’t have to tell,” Steve says, ducking down so he can see her, “It’s okay.”

 

Riley lifts her gaze, shaking her head.  “No, it’s not.”

 

“I can’t _believe_ you!” Leah screams, and something shatters in the kitchen.

 

Steve looks over, eyes going wide, but Riley makes a quiet, scared noise, and he frowns.  “Riley, what’s going on?” he asks, turning so he can see her better.

 

“Is Leah being sad again?” Emma asks, and Riley nods.

 

“Mom thinks she’s depressed,” Riley says softly, “Before you came home, they wouldn’t stop fighting.  Every day, Steve, it was awful.”

 

“About what?” Steve asks.

 

Riley shrugs.  “Anything,” she says, “Leah would just start screaming about anything, and then, one night when you were still at school, I was going downstairs, and I heard mom in Leah’s room.  She let Leah go over Alex’s for the night, and so I opened the door to see what she was doing.  She was looking through her things, and the next morning, Maria came over to take Emma and I out to breakfast and then go shopping.  Mom said she had to talk to Leah about some things, and Leah came in my room when we got back, and she told me about all the things mom had said.”

 

“Like what?” Steve prompts when she doesn’t continue.

 

“Leah!” Sara yells, and then the front door is slamming open.  “ _Leah_!”

 

Steve looks over at the living room doorway, waiting for Sara to appear, and then Riley says, “She said mom accused her of doing drugs with Alex.”

 

“ _What_?” Steve says, looking abruptly down at Riley.

 

“Joe,” Sara says, passing by the living room, “She took the car.”

 

“I’m calling the police,” Joe says, and Steve jerks to his feet.

 

“Stay here,” he says to Riley, pausing to kiss Emma on the head before he goes into the kitchen.  “What’s going on?” he demands.

 

“Joe, wait,” Sara says.

 

“Is it true?”

 

“What did Riley tell you?” Sara asks.  When Steve doesn’t respond, she sighs, “I know Leah told her.  They tell each other everything.”

 

“That you accused Leah of doing drugs with Alex.”

 

“She is,” Sara says, “She’s been abusing prescription pills, some of which I found in her room.  There’s no telling what she’s doing when she’s over Alex’s, and I just—I don’t know what to do.”  Sara deflates, and Joe comes over, wrapping an arm around her.

 

“It’s okay,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple, “We’ll figure this out.”

 

“When did it start?” Steve asks, taking a seat.

 

“I’m not sure,” Sara admits, sitting, as well, “She started acting out near the end of October, and it’s just been getting progressively worse since then.  She was fine during Thanksgiving, and it was like as soon as you went back to school, she just bottomed out, stopped trying to hide as much.  I—Steve,” Sara sighs, reaching out for one of his hands, “I need you to be honest with me.”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

“What have you done in college?”

 

“What?” Steve splutters.

 

“Don’t play dumb with me.  I know Tony.  What have you done?”

 

Steve fights with himself for a few moments before he says, “Nothing hard.”

 

“Be specific,” Sara says, squeezing his hand.

 

“Alcohol and marijuana.”

 

“Promise me,” Sara says.

 

“I promise, mom,” Steve says, “I have no interest in anything else.  Why would I?  It’s—it’s dangerous.  Trust me, I know.”

 

“Because Tony has?” she asks.  Steve just nods.  “Thank you,” she says, lifting his hand to kiss it, “I needed to make sure before we sit down with Leah and try to talk to her.  It might be helpful if you were there.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“No,” Sara says, “But I think it’ll make her feel less threatened if you’re there.”

 

“So she can bite your head off, too,” Joe mutters, and Sara sighs.  “I know, I’m sorry,” he says, “Can I call the police now?”

 

“No, let’s just—let’s wait for a while, let her cool down,” Sara says, looking up at him, “Maybe she’ll come back.”

 

“And if she doesn’t?”

 

“Dinnertime, okay?” Sara says, “And then we’ll go looking.  Let’s give her some space for right now.”  Joe sighs, but agrees.  After a moment, Sara gets up and says, “I’m going to see if I can find anything new in her room, get rid of it.  Steve, can you—take your sisters out to the movies or something?”

 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Steve says, getting up, “Let me just shower and change.  Hey,” he says, reaching for his mom, “It’ll be okay.  We’ll figure this out.”  He hugs her tightly, and she smiles when they part.

 

“Thank you, sweetie,” she says, kissing his cheek before he heads out of the kitchen.

 

He stops by the living room, leaning against the doorframe as he says, “Hey cuties, wanna go to the movies?”

 

“Yes!” Emma shrieks, jumping to her feet.

 

Riley looks at him worriedly, but he just nods, so she shrugs.  “Okay,” she says, “Do I have time to shower?”

 

Steve nods, and so they all head off to get ready.  He showers quickly, and then, as he’s drying off, he calls Tony and puts him on speaker.  “Hey babe,” Tony answers, “I can’t wait to see you this weekend, I—”

 

“Tony,” Steve interrupts him, “I don’t know what to do.”

 

“What’s wrong?  What happened?” Tony asks, his voice dropping into fear.

 

“Leah’s—she’s—god, Tony, she’s—I knew I hated Alex.”  He doesn’t know why this is so hard to say, why he can’t just come out with it, and then he realizes he’s afraid of hurting him, of putting so much weight on something that he does, as well.

 

“Alex Summers?” Tony says, confused.

 

“No, Leah’s boyfriend.”

 

“There are way too many Alex’s,” Tony says, “What about him?”

 

“He’s been—he’s been— _introducing_ her to stuff.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says slowly, “Like what?”

 

Steve chews on his lips as he pulls on his jeans, and then he just comes out with it, “She’s been abusing prescription pills with him, but that’s only what my mom found in her room.  She doesn’t know if she’s doing anything else with him when she’s over his place.”

 

“Shit, really?” Tony says, and Steve blinks.

 

“You’re not—offended?” Steve says.

 

“What?  No, why would I be?” Tony asks, and Steve’s about to respond when he makes an obnoxious noise and says, “Oh my god, because I do it?  Steve, Jesus, I am seriously fucked up.  Like, I should be diagnosed with a fucking psychosis, okay.  This is Leah, man, your little sister.  Is there anything I can do?”

 

“No, I just—I needed to hear your voice.  I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay.”

 

“It is, Steve.  It’s going to be okay, and you’re going to figure it out, and Leah’s going to realize how much you all love her and how silly she’s being.  If you need anything at all, just let me know, okay?  I’m here.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve says softly, “I should probably go.  I’m taking Riley and Emma out to the movies.  Leah kind of—stole the car and ran off, so my mom wants to clean out Leah’s room and then probably stress clean.”

 

“Hey, that’s what my mom does.  Whenever I come home, my room always looks impeccable and the studio’s been rearranged.  It’s so strange.”

 

“I thought you had maids,” Steve says, glad for the subject change.

 

“There are certain rooms they know to stay away from, mainly her wing and my floor.  Occasionally, they’ll tidy up, but it’s usually her.  What are you going to see?”

 

“I don’t even know what’s out right now,” Steve says, “Have you seen any good trailers lately?”

 

“Dude, _Walking with Dinosaurs_.  I wanna see it so bad.  Emma might like that.”

 

“Riley would love that, actually.  She’s been researching a ton about dinosaurs lately.  She keeps sending me pictures of her favorite ones.”

 

“Go see that, then.  I—” he breaks off, and Steve waits for him to continue, finishing dressing.  “Huh,” Tony says, “Bruce is calling.  I should probably answer.  Keep me updated, okay?  I love you.”

 

“I will.  I love you, too.”

 

They hang up, and Steve sighs, staring at his phone for a few moments before he finishes dressing and goes to gather the girls.

 

——

 

“Hey man,” Tony says as he switches lines, “What’s crack-a’lackin’?”

 

“Tony,” Bruce whispers.

 

Tony frowns, waiting, but Bruce doesn’t go on.  “Bruce?” he says, “Are you there?”  Maria looks over at his tone, and he shrugs.

 

There’s a long moment of silence and then, “Can you—shit, hang on.”  There’s a muffled noise, like Bruce covered the phone, but Tony can still make out the sound of someone slamming against a door.

 

“Mamma,” he says, getting to his feet, “I might need you.”

 

The noise level shifts, and Tony hears, “ _Robert_!  Don’t make me come in there!”

 

“Tony,” Bruce whispers.

 

“I’m on my way,” Tony says, “Just—try to stay hidden, okay?”  He waves to Maria, who hurriedly puts her brush in a mason jar full of water and runs over to him as he jogs out of the studio.

 

“Hurry,” Bruce says, and then the line goes dead.

 

——

 

The woman selling tickets smiles brightly when Steve comes up with Riley and Emma trailing him, and then, when they’re walking back to the theaters, someone whistles, and he sighs and turns only to find Sam making his way over to him.  “Hey, man,” Steve says, smiling as he reaches him.

 

“Hey,” Sam says, lifting a fist to bump Steve’s, “Who’re these cuties?”

 

Emma giggles and hides behind Steve’s legs, and Steve laughs, looking down at her.  “This is Emma,” he says, poking her before he turns to Riley, “And Riley, my sisters.”

 

“We’re going to see _Walking with Dinosaurs_!” Emma exclaims, peeking around Steve’s legs, “Do you run with my brother?”

 

“I do,” Sam says, “Do you like running?”  


“Tony says running is bad for the soul,” Emma says, stepping out from behind Steve, “I don’t even really like walking.”

 

Sam laughs, nodding.  “Fair enough.  I’m actually here with my little brother,” he says, looking around.  “Matt, come here!”  A little boy comes running around, about Emma’s age, though he slows, staring around at all the new faces as he approaches.  “Matt, this is my friend, Steve.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Matt says politely, waving.

 

“And these are his sisters, Emma and Riley.”

 

“Cool shirt,” Matt says to Emma, who grins, looking up at Steve.  “What movie are you going to see?” Matt asks.

 

“The dinosaur one!” Emma exclaims excitedly, “It’s gonna be _awesome_.”

 

“Hey, us too!” Matt says, brightening, “Maybe we can sit together!”

 

“Yeah!  Come on, Steve!”

 

Emma grabs Steve’s hand, tugging him off, and Steve smiles, following her.

 

In the theater, Riley quietly asks to sit on the outside next to Steve, and so Emma and Matt sit in between Steve and Sam.  “Everything okay?” he asks, ducking his head toward Riley.

 

She nods slowly.  “I’m just worried about Leah,” she whispers.

 

“Me too,” Steve says, taking her hand, “Don’t worry, though.  Mom and dad will help her, and we can, too.  She just needs her family right now, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Riley says, shrugging.

 

Steve releases her hand, and she digs her phone out as Steve turns, flashing Sam a smile.  “So, meet’s coming up soon,” he says.

 

“Dude, it’s gonna be awesome,” Sam says, “With you added to the team, we’re really looking good.  I have a really good feeling about it.  Don’t forget, practice two days after New Years’—gotta get you ready for your first meet.”

 

“Where is it again?”

 

“About an hour away, not too bad.  Why, you got someone coming?”

 

“Hopefully,” Steve says, which reminds him he needs to ask Tony about it, but then the lights start to dim, and he settles into his seat, nudging Riley, who rolls her eyes at him and finishes her message before putting her phone away.

 

The movie manages to hold his attention, and, when he’s out, Emma and Matt are grumbling about being hungry, so they take the kids out to Friendly’s, where Steve manages to forget about what’s going on for the moment, just enjoying being out with his sisters and Sam, and it turns into a fairly fun afternoon.

 

He texts his mom as he’s dropping into the driver’s seat, waiting while Emma and Riley buckle up, _hey, okay if we come home?_

It takes a few minutes, and he’s on the road when his phone buzzes, and Riley opens it up, reading, “Yeah.  Leah isn’t back yet.”  He glances over at Riley, whose expression is one of deep worry, and he sighs, reaching up a hand to scrub over his face.  He doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Can we go to the beach?” Riley asks after a bit of silence.

 

“There’s probably snow,” Steve says even as he switches lanes.

 

“I don’t care,” she says, sounding forlorn, and so Steve reaches for the radio, turning on something that Emma will whine about but that Riley will try to hide her smile as she sings along.  Emma doesn’t whine, and she seems to sense that something’s off because she just hums along in the backseat, staring out the window.

 

When they get to the beach, Steve demands they bundle up, putting on the scarves, hats, and gloves that they brought but didn’t wear into the movies, and only when he’s satisfied does he let them out of the car.  Riley immediately heads down to the sand—there hasn’t been much snow this winter, and Steve’s both sad about it and happy because it’s not as cold, and he hopes the barely nice weather they’re having right now holds out for this weekend.  Emma stays by Steve, holding his hand as they climb down the rocks together, following Riley’s quick steps.  When they reach her near the water’s edge, she’s throwing rocks violently into the water, and Emma looks up at Steve, frowning, so Steve says, “Want me to teach you how to skip rocks?”  When she nods, he continues, “Alright, go find a rock that’s flat on both sides.”

 

Emma runs off, and, as soon as she’s stooping over looking at rocks, Steve carefully takes one of Riley’s arms and gives her a tug until she turns into him, stepping into his embrace and burying her face in his chest.  “Sh, it’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing her back as Riley cries quietly, “It’s okay.”

 

“Steve, what’s going to happen?” she mumbles.

 

“Leah’s going to be just fine, I promise.  I need you to be brave, though, because she’s going to need us, more than ever.”

 

“What if she doesn’t come home?” she asks, stepping back and looking up at him.

 

“Then we’ll just have to go and get her.  Now, come on, show me that arm of yours.”

 

Riley laughs softly, shrugging before she wipes at her face and goes off to find a rock.  Steve watches her until Emma comes up, showing off the rock she found.  “Is this good enough?” she asks, and Steve just smiles and nods.

 

——

 

Maria looks out at the small house and then over at Tony, whose jaw is clenched tightly.  “Are you sure about this?” Maria asks.

 

“He’s my best friend, mamma,” Tony says, “Are _you_ sure about this?”

 

“He saved your life,” Maria says, “And he’s cute.”  Tony looks over, quirking an eyebrow, and Maria just shrugs and opens her door, getting out.  Tony takes a deep breath and follows her.  “Please be careful,” she whispers when they reach the door, and then she steps out of sight.

 

Tony squares his shoulders and then knocks, as loudly and annoyingly as he can.  The door swings open almost immediately, and Tony takes one look to make sure it’s a tall, burly man before he lets his fist fly.  His aim is dead on, striking him in the chest, and then he runs, letting out an empty laugh that is echoed by a wild growl.  He glances back once to make sure Bruce’s father is chasing him, and then he just keeps going, putting his all into giving his mom as wide a berth as possible.

 

Maria hurries inside once Tony and Bruce’s father are gone, and calls out, “Bruce?  Bruce?  It’s Maria Stark!  Where are you, sweetie?”  A door opens a crack, and Bruce peeks out.  “Oh god,” Maria gasps, crossing the room in quick strides.  She pulls the door open wider, touching his face lightly with one hand before she says, “Get your things, darling.  We’re leaving.”

 

Bruce doesn’t hesitate before he’s darting back into the room and grabbing a bag.  He packed while waiting for Tony, and so he’s ready by the time Maria has reached the front door and is looking out.  “Quickly now,” she says when Bruce appears at her elbow.

 

He follows her out of the house and over to her car, climbing in back.  Maria settles in the front, honks once, and then puts the car in drive, foot on the brake.  Tony reaches them easily, Bruce’s father far behind him, and he leaps into the car a second before Maria pulls away.

 

They’re about two minutes out when Tony turns and says, “Are you okay?”

 

Bruce shakes his head, and so Tony climbs back, careful to avoid Bruce.  He reaches a hand back, and Maria grabs the first aid kit from the floor of the passenger side, handing it to him.  “Let me see,” Tony says, flapping a hand at him.

 

“It’s fine,” he mutters.

 

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Tony says, and Bruce sighs.

 

“I wrapped up the worst of it,” he says, “Just wait until we get to yours.”

 

Tony holds his gaze for a few moments before he nods and says, “Hold my hand, then.”

 

Bruce extends a hand, and Tony winds their fingers together, lifting them to press a warm kiss to Bruce’s knuckles.  They spend the drive in silence until they’re pulling up in front of the mansion again, and Tony gets out first before helping Bruce out of the car.  “Shut up,” he says when Bruce starts to claim he can walk on his own, and so he gives in, letting Tony loop Bruce’s arm around his shoulders as he takes his waist.  They make their way slowly over to the front doors as Maria gets Bruce’s bag, and she follows them into the mansion and to the left, into the studio.

 

Tony sets Bruce down on the futon, Maria calls for one of the maids, giving her a list of things she needs, and then she’s sitting next to Bruce as Tony helps him get his shirt off.  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says quietly as Tony starts undoing the strips of cloth Bruce has wrapped around him.

 

He makes a face when he reveals the long gash curving around Bruce’s side, as well as the swelled skin that’s slowly forming ugly bruises.  “Lie back,” Tony says, holding out a hand.  Maria hands over alcohol swabs, and Bruce closes his eyes, lying on his side and pulling his arm up.  It looks much worse than it is, and he won’t need stitches for it, but it’ll still scar, and it hurts like a bitch.

 

After they’ve cleaned him up, Tony leads him upstairs to his room where he can shower and change, and then he goes back down to find him something to eat.  Maria’s already in the kitchen, washing her hands, when Tony comes in.

 

“Ciao,” he says, coming over, stopping behind her and leaning his head against her shoulder.

 

“How is he?” Maria asks, drying off her hands before she turns and folds Tony away in her arms.

 

“Quiet,” Tony murmurs, eyes closing as Maria rubs a hand over his back, “I knew his father was bad, but I never knew it was _that_ bad, not like my father.  I mean, he’s told me stories before, and I know he’s been in the hospital before because of it, but that was—he was out of control.  If he’d gotten in that room, I—I can’t even imagine what would have happened.  Mamma.”  He pushes away from her, holding her gaze for a moment before he asks, “Can he stay here for a while?”

 

“Of course, sweetie,” Maria says, smiling, “Now.  It’s almost dinnertime.  I’m going to go find your father, let him know what happened, and then I’ll come check on you two, okay?  See if you can get in contact with Betty in the meantime.”

 

“Thank you,” Tony says, stepping in to hug her again.

 

Maria just holds him tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before she threads a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh.

 

——

 

Steve’s just pulling up in the driveway when his phone starts ringing, and he looks down, gritting his teeth when he sees Leah’s name.  “I’m gonna answer this out here, okay?” Steve says, looking at Riley and then Emma, “Why don’t you head inside and let mom know I’ll be right in?”

 

“Thanks for a really fun day, Steve,” Emma says, smiling brightly before she opens her door.

 

“Thank you,” Riley says, leaning over to hug him before she gets out, as well.

 

He waits until they’re walking to the front door before he answers, “Hello?”

 

“Steve?” Leah’s voice echoes through the phone, and she sounds little and afraid, and it makes his chest ache.

 

“Are you okay?  Do you need me to come get you?”

 

“Please,” Leah whispers, “I’m so sorry, Steve.  I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—I screwed up.”

 

“Where are you?  I’m on my way.”

 

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” Leah says, her voice teetering dangerously close to a sob.

 

“I don’t care what you did,” Steve says, “Nothing matters but that you’re safe.  Where are you?”

 

“Alex’s.  I have to go.  He told me not to call you, but I just want to go home.”

 

“I’m on my way.  I’ll be right there,” Steve says even as he’s backing out.  He hangs up, gets onto the street, and then calls Tony, plugging his phone into the audio jack so that the conversation will filter out and he can drive more easily.

 

“Hey, I’m kind of busy right now, can I call you back later?” Tony says by way of answer.

 

“I need you,” Steve says.

 

Tony makes a grumbling noise and then says, “Hang on a second.”  And then, quieter, “I’ll be right back, okay?”  There’s a mumbled response, and then the sound of movement before Tony’s back, “Hey, how is everything?”

 

“Who are you with?” Steve asks, frowning.

 

“Bruce,” Tony sighs, “I had to go pick him up from his place earlier.  Steve, his dad—god, it was terrifying.  He’s staying here for a while, probably end up with Betty in a few days, but I’m not letting him go back there.”

 

“Jesus,” Steve says, shaking his head, “What the hell is going on today?”

 

“How’s Leah?”

 

“I’m on my way to get her right now.  Tony, I don’t know what I’m going to find.  I don’t know what to do.  Riley’s worried sick, and Emma keeps asking questions, and my dad keeps saying he’s going to call the police, and I just—I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Take a deep breath, and stop speeding.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“Shut up, and do as you’re told.”  Steve manages a small smile, eases off on the gas, and takes a slow, easy breath.  “There you go,” Tony says softly, “Now, here’s what you do.  You go in there, wherever she is, and you be a big brother.  Help her.  She needs you, and she called _you_ for a reason.  If she doesn’t want to go home right away, don’t go home.  Go somewhere she feels comfortable talking.  Don’t push her into anything.  Let her feel safe with you.  Don’t let her get away with it, though.  She has to know what she’s doing is harmful to herself and to her family, and you can’t allow it to go on.  As her big brother, you have a responsibility to keep her safe and happy and loved.  And, hey, if you need to, shit on me.  Use me as a bad example.  Tell her everything you used to say to me, just don’t be an asshole about it.”

 

“I needed to be an asshole to you,” Steve says.

 

“I know, but that’s not what she needs.  You can do this, Steve.  You’re so strong, and I have such faith in you.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve says softly, taking another slow breath.

 

“You’re okay,” Tony says, and he says it with such surety that Steve smiles.

 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

 

“Duh,” Tony says, “I’m always right.  Are you almost there?”

 

“Yeah.  Can I call you later?”

 

“Anytime you need, love,” Tony says warmly, “I should go, though.  I don’t want to leave Bruce alone for too long.”

 

“Okay.  Be good.”

 

“Get our girl home safe,” Tony says before he hangs up, and then Steve’s swallowing down his fear and pulling into Alex’s driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has a lovely weekend coming up, :) Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	39. Chapter 39

When Maria comes to get them for dinner, Bruce politely declines, mumbling that he doesn’t feel well, so Tony leans over, dropping a soft kiss on his forehead before he herds his mom out of the room.  “How is he?” Maria asks as they make their way downstairs.

 

“In pain.  He thinks he has a couple bruised ribs, possibly a concussion, and just general aches from where he was hit.  Betty’s away until after New Years’, but he’s going to stay over there for the rest of break.”

 

“Are you still going out with Steve this weekend?”

 

“I would like to,” Tony says, though he shrugs, “We’ll see.”

 

They go into the dining room, where the food has already been laid out, and Howard looks up as they enter.  “Where’s Bruce?” he asks.

 

“He’s upstairs,” Tony says, coming over, “I was going to make him a plate and eat with him, if that’s okay.”

 

“Of course,” Howard says, “If he needs anything, let us know.”

 

Tony smiles unsurely, nodding.  “Thank you,” he says.

 

After he’s returned, and after Bruce has sighed and given him a small smile, they eat and talk quietly.  Tony returns the plates to the kitchen after, and then he comes back up to find Bruce poking lightly at one of his bruises.  He winces as Tony comes in, lowering his shirt.

 

“How’re your ribs?” Tony asks as he goes over to his dresser, opening it up and rummaging around until he finds his yoga clothes.

 

“Sore,” Bruce murmurs, “What are you doing?”

 

“Yoga,” Tony says as he steps out of his pants, “Come on, do it with me.  I’ll go easy on you,” he adds when Bruce starts to object.

 

He lingers a moment, and then nods, carefully getting off the bed.  They move slowly together, sticking to simple poses, and, when they’ve finished and come out into full lotus, Tony cracks his back and then settles into his mat.  Bruce just smiles and follows him, and they drift off into a peaceful, warm meditation.

 

Tony comes out first, and he leans down to kiss Bruce’s mess of curls before he grabs his phone and goes into the bathroom.  He texts Steve, _remember, I love you, and you’re one of the most amazing people I have ever met, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life, as are your beautiful sisters, and you can do this._   When he’s done, he makes some noise finding his stash of marijuana, and then, when he comes back out into the room and Bruce looks over at him, Bruce grins.

 

“Thought so,” Tony says, going over and jumping onto his bed.  He falls onto his back, setting the bag down on his stomach as he lays out paper on his chest.  Bruce comes out of his meditation slowly, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck before he comes over and lies next to Tony.

 

He waits until Tony’s rolled a blunt, lit up, and passed it over before he says, “Thank you, Tony.”

 

“Dude, of course,” Tony says, reaching for his hand and tangling their fingers together, “I love you, man.”

 

Bruce smiles, turning his head toward Tony as he hands the blunt back over.  They lie in quiet for a while, getting high and just enjoying each other’s company until Bruce’s next inhale shakes a little, and he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t do that,” Tony says, reaching over and dropping the blunt onto the windowsill, putting the hash with it before he curls his arms around Bruce, pulling him toward him.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Bruce mumbles as he breaks, shoulders jumping as he cries, but Tony just shushes him and holds him, humming Cher like his mom always used to when he was little and upset.  Eventually, Bruce fades into a fitful slumber, and Tony eases him onto his back, folding his legs under him before he stretches his fingers, bones popping.  He massages Bruce’s chest lightly, easing his fingers over the angry muscles until Bruce starts to calm, and then he climbs over him and off the bed.  He pulls the blankets over him, kisses his forehead, and then writes him a quick note before going off to find Maria.

 

——

 

When Alex finally opens the door, he’s high as a fucking kite, and Steve just sighs and shoves past him, ignoring him when Alex yells after him.  He finds Leah, pulls her up off the sofa, and gathers her things while she stands there, swaying a little.  He pulls on her jacket, grabs her bag, and then leads her out of the house, pausing only to deck Alex when he paws at her.  He drops to the floor, Leah hides her face in Steve’s arm, and they leave.

 

Steve’s drives until Leah says, “I can’t go home like this.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, and he keeps driving.  Eventually, they end up at a park, which is deserted, and Steve pulls into a space, shifting the car into park but leaving it on, the heater running.  After a few moments of silence, he turns and asks, “What did you take?”  Leah shakes her head, but Steve reaches out, taking one of her hands, and says, “I very much doubt anything you say will surprise me.”  Leah’s eyes go wide, and Steve continues, “I have seen Tony at his absolute worst.  I have seen him crashing on cocaine, so high on ecstasy he can barely stand, and hiding in the closet from hallucinogens.  He used to take barbiturates with Johnny, used to pop pills with hard whiskey, and I’ve gotten high with him on multiple occasions.  You can talk to me.”

 

“Will you tell mom?” Leah asks.

 

“No,” Steve says, “You will.”

 

He takes his hand back and starts to get comfortable, but then Leah shakes her head and says, “Just

take me home, then.”

 

“What?” Steve says, bewildered.

 

“You’re just going to judge me like she will.  I was _hoping_ you’d take me somewhere to clean up,” Leah says before she pushes open the door and gets out of the car.

 

Steve stares at her empty seat for a second before he shuts off the car and follows her.  “Okay, what the hell?” he snaps, “What was all that on the phone, then?”

 

“Convincing you to come get me,” Leah says, shrugging, “Basic acting skills, Steven.  Jesus, I thought you were smart.”

 

Steve gapes at her, disbelieving, and she starts to head for the park when he comes around the car and takes her arm, stopping her.  “What did you take?” he demands.

 

“Clearly,” Leah says, pulling out of his grip, “You’ve seen worse.  What’s mom gonna say when she hears her precious little boy is fucking a drug addict?”

 

She stalks away, and Steve just stands there.  He never expected this, not in a million years, and he barely recognizes his sister.  He tries to recall any signs that she’s been off, but all he can think about is her laugh whenever she falls out of a yoga pose, whining at him to help her, and it isn’t fitting.

 

Steve turns and drops down next to the car, sitting with his back against it.  He stares over at where Leah’s climbing around the playground for a while, and then he digs out his phone, intending to call his mom when he sees the message from Tony, and he almost breaks.

 

He reads it twice, and then he takes a deep breath and gets up, going over to the playground, where Leah is now on the swings.  “Oh my god,” she groans when he approaches her, “Go away.”

 

“We don’t have to talk,” Steve says, “I’d just like to be near you.”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Steve,” Leah says, rolling her eyes, “You can’t seriously expect me to believe that you’re as good as you pretend to be.  You’re just as bad as Tony, and I’m going to prove it.”

 

She pushes off the swings, throwing it behind her, and starts to storm off when Steve says, “The night Tony and Maria came to our house, they hadn’t been in an accident.”  Leah pauses at his words, her back still to him, and he continues when she doesn’t walk away, “Howard had beat him.”  Leah turns abruptly, staring at Steve with a strange expression.  Steve shrugs, and it’s a moment before he can continue, but his voice is a little raw when he does, “He whipped him with a belt.  He punched him and slapped him and—he—he kicked him in the chest, so hard that it was bruised for _weeks_ afterward.  His back is—ruined,” the word cracks, but Steve refuses to look away from Leah, despite the hot tears pricking in the corners of his eyes as he goes on, “It’s scarred and awful looking.  He has scars all over his body from him, from—from the—the people that raped him.”

 

Leah staggers back a step, her hand coming to her mouth as she gasps.  “Steve,” she whispers.

 

Steve finally looks away, closing his eyes as tears run freely down his cheeks.  “He was raped in high school and in college.  I walked in on Luke on top of him, and Tony was screaming to be let go.  He’s been drugged, and sometimes he’s not even awake for it.  He’s tried to commit suicide twice because of it.  He just had a _heart attack_ , Leah.”

 

When he looks back at her, Leah is fighting tears, and Steve manages a small, trembling smile as he shrugs one shoulder and says, “You are so beautiful.  You have so much potential, and the world is yours.  You can do anything, you can _be_ anything.  You have a family who loves you endlessly, who would do _anything_ for you.  You’re going to go to college in a couple years, and you’re going to have the time of your life, but only if you’re alive for it.  And you know what,” Steve says, getting up from the swing, “Fuck mom, okay.  Fuck dad.  Fuck me and Riley and Emma.  None of it matters.  The only thing that matters is _you_ , and you are the only one that can decide the course of your life.  If you want to do drugs and get wasted and set fire to everything that is good in your life, then go ahead.  Ruin yourself.  But don’t you dare blame anyone but yourself.”  He crosses over to where she’s standing and pauses long enough to say, “I’m leaving in five minutes,” before he continues over to the car.

 

He’s only made it halfway before he’s crying, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket, dialing home as he walks.  Sara answers on the first ring, “Steve?  Do you have her?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, reaching up a hand to wipe at his face, “I’ll be home soon.”

 

“I’ll?” Sara repeats, “Is she not coming with you?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” Steve says, tilting his head up and letting out a breath.  “I hope,” he says after a moment.

 

“How is she?” Sara asks, and then, “Joe, she’s with Steve.”

 

“She’s—” but Steve doesn’t know how to answer, and so he just sighs.

 

“Steve, tell me the truth,” Sara says.

 

“She’s on something,” he says, “I don’t know what, but she’s being a bitch, and I just—I don’t know what to do, mom.”

 

“Come home,” Sara says, “We’ll figure it out.”

 

Steve hangs up with her when he reaches the car, and he drops behind the steering wheel, looking out to see if he can find Leah.  She’s on the swings again, and she doesn’t move until he turns on the car, and then she gets up, slowly coming over.  “Don’t talk to me,” she mutters when she gets in beside him, and Steve’s jaw tightens in response, but he doesn’t say anything, instead backs out and heads home.

 

——

 

When Steve gets back to the house, Leah can’t get out of the car fast enough, but he lets it idle in the driveway, watching her head up to the house and let herself in.  He doesn’t want to go inside.  He doesn’t want to watch his mother cry and his sister scream.  He doesn’t want to do this _again_.  He’s already had to do this with Tony, and he doesn’t think he can handle it again.  He doesn’t want to be _here_.  He wants to be with Tony, but he’s busy with Bruce, and so he sighs, pulling out his phone and thumbing into Alex’s contact.

 

He answers after a few rings, “Hey man.  How’s your Christmas going?”  


“Shitty,” Steve says, “What are you doing right now?”

 

“Working on getting wasted,” Alex says, “Christmas with the Summers’ suck.  Wanna come over?”

 

“Is that okay?” Steve asks, already putting the car in reverse.

 

“Absolutely.  I hate drinking alone,” Alex says, and so it’s decided.

 

Steve texts Sara to let her know where he’s going, and she thankfully understands, so then he’s on his way over to Alex’s.  When he gets there, Alex is already fairly buzzed, Scott isn’t home, and Steve’s got a beer in his hand before he’s even sat down.

 

“So, why does your Christmas suck?” Steve asks as he’s looking around Alex’s room.

 

“Don’t get along with our parents,” Alex says, flopping on his bed and stretching out before he rolls over onto his stomach, grabs his beer from the nightstand, and sits up, resting against his pillows.  “Scott and I have been living together for years now, and we don’t spend holidays with them anymore.  Are you looking at my books, weirdo?” he adds when he catches sight of Steve at his bookshelf.

 

Steve shrugs, lifting a hand to run along the spines.  He doesn’t have a lot, and what he does have isn’t that great, but it’s still something.  “Tony’s got this philosophy about bookshelves,” Steve says softly, lifting his beer to his lips and taking a long drink.  “People are hard to read.  Books are not.  When someone puts a book on their shelf, it’s a little part of their soul sitting out in the open for someone else to touch and admire.”

 

“Okay, Plato,” Alex mutters.  Steve rolls his eyes, but leaves his bookshelf to come over and sit on the end of his bed.  “Come on, muscles, spill.  What’s going on in that noggin’?”

 

Steve makes a face at the nickname, masking it by tipping back the rest of his beer, and Alex grins, reaching over the side of his bed to a small fridge and pulling out another.  “Just family shit,” he says, “Kind of avoiding going home right now.”

 

“Are you in a fight with your parents or something?” Alex asks.

 

“No,” Steve says slowly, “Just—” and he doesn’t mean to tell him, but it comes spilling out of him before he can stop it, “My sister’s experimenting with drugs.  She’s only seventeen, and her boyfriend’s a complete douchebag, and I don’t know how to help her, but I don’t even fucking want to.  I’ve already went through all of this shit with Tony.  He was such an _asshole_ when I first met him, always getting high on something and going to every party possible.  I can’t think of a drug he _hasn’t_ done, and maybe Leah saw that in him.  Maybe she was there one time when he was abusing his meds, and maybe she thought, well, if he could do it and be fine, then what was the problem?  And he’s _not_ fine, but no one seems to ever want to talk about that, the fact that he gets black out drunk every weekend and snorts coke and takes every different party drug whenever he goes out dancing, and I’m just so sick of it.  I don’t want to fucking deal with it again, and I—shit, I’m sorry,” Steve says, realizing he’s ranting, “I didn’t mean to just dump that on you.”

 

“Dude, no, it’s fine,” Alex says, frowning, “That sounds awful, I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.  I couldn’t even imagine if the person I was dating acted like that.”

 

“I mean, he doesn’t do it anymore,” Steve says, shrugging, “It’s just—how do I know he’s not going to start again?  How do I know he isn’t just on a dry spell because of his heart?  How do I know the second we get back to school, he isn’t going to drag me to some party to lose our minds to whatever tickles his fancy that night?  I hate it when he gets like that, and now my sister is going off the rails, and I don’t know how to help her, and it just—it _sucks_.”

 

“It’s so destructive,” Alex says, “You don’t deserve that, Steve.”

 

“I don’t!” Steve agrees before he takes a long drink of his beer.  When he lowers it again, he continues, “I fucking don’t, you’re right.  It’s such absolute shit.”

 

“I think we need something harder,” Alex says, downing the rest of his beer before he rolls off his bed and leaves.  He returns with a bottle of whiskey, and Steve stops caring.

 

A few hours later, after Alex has offered his sofa, Steve crashes into it, Alex bids him goodnight, and Steve digs out his phone.  He knows this is an awful idea, but he dials Tony anyway, yawning as it rings.  “Hey,” Tony says warmly when he answers, “Did you find Leah?  Is she okay?”

 

“You’re an _asshole_ ,” Steve slurs.

 

“Steve?” Tony says.

 

“I don’t fucking like you sometimes,” Steve mumbles, stretching his legs out so they dangle over the end of the sofa, “With the—the—the drinking and the booze and the drugs and the pill popping and the alcohol and the—the _stupidity_.”

 

“Are you—drunk?” Tony asks, and Steve can practically hear his frown.

 

“I am an _adult_ , Anthony, I can do whatever the fuck I like.  I am _sick_ and _tired_ of the _bullshit_ you put me through with all your fucked up little quirks, but they’re not fucking quirks because they’re just _you_ ruining your life, and now Leah’s ruining her life, and it _sucks_.”

 

“Okay, first of all, _fuck you_ if you think you can call me that,” Tony snaps, “Where are you?  Is your mom witnessing this, dickface?”

 

“I am staying with a _friend_ tonight,” Steve says, “Because I don’t want to go home, and I don’t want to deal with Leah’s shit because I already had to deal with your shit and no one gives a fuck about what I had to put up with, and it’s not fucking fair that I had to deal with your fucking shit and now I have to deal with it _all over again_.”

 

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ ,” Tony says, anger slicing through his voice, “Poor Steve, having to pick up Tony’s mess.  I never asked for your help.  I got through high school just fine.  You’re the one who tried to swoop in and save the day.  I am _not_ a damsel in distress.  I can take care of myself, and I don’t need your fucking pity.”

 

“Fine?” Steve echoes loudly, “Oh sure, because being raped and drugged and trying to kill yourself is _so fine_.  Yeah, you live a real fucking charmed life, _don’t you_?  Well, guess what, _Tony_ , there are _some of us_ who actually have _real_ problems going on and—”

 

“Fuck you,” Tony says, and his voice is hard and chipping around the edges before he hangs up.

 

On the other line, Tony stares at his phone, biting his lip hard enough that the skin threatens to break, and he feels wound up too tight, so he slips out of the bathroom where he’d gone to be quiet so Bruce wouldn’t wake.  He drops his phone onto his dresser and then leaves, taking the stairs down to the second level.  Maria isn’t in her room, though Howard is, and Tony bursts in without knocking, though he immediately careens to a halt when he sees his father reading through a report in bed.

 

“Oh,” he says, starting to step back out.

 

“Your mother is downstairs,” Howard says without looking away from the report.

 

Tony hurries back out and then takes the stairs quickly, jumping down the last few before he’s running across the foyer into Maria’s wing.  She’s in warrior two, one of her paintbrushes held fiercely in the hand behind her, and she’s glaring at her canvas.

 

“Mamma,” Tony says brokenly, and the paintbrush clatters to the floor.

 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” she asks, coming out of the pose and immediately going to him.

 

“I just—” but he can’t get the words out, and so instead he burrows against her, hiding his fear in the warmth of her familiar scent.  She holds him tightly, hands pressed against his back, and she doesn’t speak until he finally takes a shuddering breath and steps back.  “I want to drink,” he says.

 

“Let’s do yoga, then,” Maria says, and she doesn’t ask.

 

She finds two mats, tosses one to Tony, who rolls it out opposite hers, and then they stretch out briefly before they’re getting into down dog, Maria’s long, beautiful hair drawing a curtain around her.  They hold that for a few moments before stepping forward into a lunge at the same time, and they work through a series of warrior poses, inhaling and exhaling together so that the room is filled with the echo of their breaths.

 

It’s been a long time since they did yoga like this, facing each other, and Tony misses it, misses the way the tops of their heads brush together as they roll down into a plank and then come away into cobra.  He misses getting into a strong down dog, pressing down into his heels, misses the weight of Maria’s feet against his lower back, her hands just inside of his.  He misses her soft smile when he tilts his head up, reaching for her gaze.

 

He misses the easiness of yoga with her, how simple and familiar it is.

 

After she’s returned to her mat, Tony comes around to help ease her into a modified bow, fingers curling around her thin wrists as he leans her back until she’s rubbing a thumb over the inside of his wrist, and he lets go of her, watching as she holds it herself, the muscles in her arms pulled taught.  She’s incredibly strong, more so than anyone gives her credit for, and he reaches forward, slowly kneading his knuckles into her lower back.  One of her hands stretches farther to brush the pads of her fingers over his face, and Tony smiles before reaching back, spine popping before he goes back to his mat, bare feet brushing over the floor.  Maria grabs one of his toes as he settles into a lunge, and he wiggles it out of her grasp before she goes into down dog and then matches his lunge.  They return to warrior two, Maria dancing her fingers between them until Tony takes her hand, and they stretch out, pulling back and forth before they twist, reaching with their other hands.

 

It’s like a dance with them, a long practiced and fluid movement that’s so natural between them, and it does wonders for calming him down.

 

After another set of stretching warriors, they come into forward bends, reaching out to hold onto each other’s elbows, leaning back into the bends before they straighten into chairs, fingers curled around wrists as they sink lower and lower before coming back up again, hands at heart center.

 

They finish with split stretches, one leg bent in, their other feet pressed together, soles snug, arms extended in an arc above them before they’re leaning in, and Tony whines softly when Maria kisses his toes.  “Don’t bite,” he murmurs, and Maria laughs.

 

They switch legs, and she kisses his other toes, as well.  “I stopped biting when they started to smell,” she says in defense, and Tony snorts.  “Listen, you,” she says, “You had adorable little baby feet, I wanted to eat them right up.”

 

Tony just smiles and straightens out of his stretch, arms lifting up as he leans back.  When he comes back, legs folded in full lotus, Maria is a mirror of him, the same broken heart and weary soul.

 

——

 

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to his head.  He gets up slowly, one hand pressed against his temple as he looks around blearily.  “What the fuck,” he grumbles, hand sliding around to rub at his eyes.

 

“Hey, you’re awake,” Alex says as he comes out of the kitchen, “I’m making pancakes.”

 

“The fuck time did we go to sleep last night?” Steve asks, looking over at him with narrowed eyes.

 

“Like—four, or something?  You spent some time bitching out your boyfriend, though.  How’d that go?”

 

“Shit,” Steve says, sagging back against the sofa as he remembers, “Shit fuck _balls_.”

 

He leans to the side, trying to get his phone out of his pocket, but then Alex comes over, laying a hand on his shoulder.  “Maybe you should give it some time,” he says, “You guys said some pretty awful stuff to each other.”

 

“You heard?”

 

“You’re loud when you’re drunk.”

 

“I think I still am.  _Fuck_ almighty, what did we drink last night?” he groans as he starts to get up.

 

“Whiskey, mostly,” Alex says, “Started out with beer, though, ended with tequila.”

 

“Oh, fuck that,” Steve mumbles, “You got a bathroom I can puke in?”

 

“Yeah, in my room.  Don’t miss.  Pancakes,” he adds, and Steve walks past him, grunting when he slaps his ass.  He doesn’t pay it much mind—they’re always doing it in the locker room, squealing like girls and running around with towels, so he just keeps walking.

 

After he’s heaved into Alex’s toilet enough that his stomach isn’t rolling anymore, he calls Tony, his head tipped back against the wall.  When he finally answers, it’s with a violent, “ _What_?”

 

“I’m an asshole.”

 

“Oh, you’re something alright,” Tony snaps, “I can’t fucking believe you.”

 

“Okay,” Steve sighs.

 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Tony says, “I have let you in all the way, in every nook and cranny.  You have seen me at my absolute worst, at my most vulnerable, and I have trusted you with all of it, and this is what I get for it?  Do you even know how hard it’s been being _better_ for you, how much I’ve had to hide from you?  God, coming off cocaine is a fucking _nightmare_ , and don’t even get me started on the fucking alcohol withdrawal I’m going through right now, but have I shoved that in your face and asked you to help me?  _No_ , because I know you don’t want to deal with it, and I know it’s too much, and I know _I’m_ too much, but I thought we were okay, I thought you’d noticed how hard I’ve been trying, how much I want this, to be good for you, to be a better person, and I’m not even asking for fucking recognition, but I thought you were actually paying attention, actually saw it, and you can’t be disappointed in me.  Please, Steve, you can’t.  I don’t—I don’t know what I’ll do if you are.  You are the only person left who hasn’t looked at me like I’ve failed, and I need you.  _Please_.”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, pressing his fingers against his closed eyes, trying to stop the tears that want to fall.  He doesn’t know how much more he can take.  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m so sorry.  I should never have called you like that, and I shouldn’t have said it like that, and I just—I’m freaking out.  I don’t know if I can go through this again.  I didn’t know how to do it the first time with you, and I don’t know how to do it with Leah, and I’m losing my fucking mind, and I can’t do this without you, but it infuriates me that this is happening again, that she reminds me so much of _you_.”

 

Silence settles, thick and awful, between them.

 

Finally, Tony asks, “What do you want from me?”

 

Steve inhales slowly, holding it inside of him, and, when he exhales, he opens his eyes.  “I want to hold you,” he whispers, “I just want to be near you.”

 

“I’m still mad at you,” Tony says, though it’s lacking conviction.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve says, “You’ll get over it.”

 

He lets out this quiet little laugh, and Steve smiles.  “You’re an asshole,” he says, and Steve returns the laugh and then, “I don’t know how to sleep without you.”

 

Steve sighs, closing his eyes again.  “You’re turning me into an insomniac,” he admits, and it’s true.  When they’re apart, he spends most of the night on his laptop or drawing or reading or doing anything that’s not sleeping because his chest always feels cold without him.  “I’m sorry for what I said,” Steve says.

 

“I guess you’re forgiven,” Tony says, “I’m sorry I’m such a pain.  I don’t try to be a miserable sod.  I think it’s genetic.”

 

Steve snorts, “Probably.”

 

Tony’s quiet for a moment, and then, “How’s Leah?”

 

Steve frowns, looking over at the closed door.  “I’m not home,” he says.

 

“Right, you said you were at a friend’s last night.”

 

“Alex,” Steve says.

 

“Oh,” Tony says, and it sounds strange, “I didn’t know you were that close.”

 

“Getting there,” Steve says, shrugging, “He’s nice, except he gave me tequila.”

 

“Oh, fuck that,” Tony says, and Steve laughs.

 

“Yeah, I second that.  I should probably go.  He made pancakes.”

 

“Jealous,” Tony says, “Go home, okay?  You can’t hide forever.  Keep me updated.”

 

“I will.  Can I call you later?”

 

“Yeah, I should be around.  Be good, no more tequila.  I’ll talk to you later, cutie,” Tony says before he hangs up, and though Steve sits there for a few moments longer, he gets up eventually and goes off to find Alex and pancakes.

 

——

 

Tony sighs, dropping his phone back onto the nightstand before he climbs up onto the bed and settles next to Bruce, folding his legs under him.  He reaches a hand forward, brushing his curls away from his forehead, fingers threading through lightly before he’s just staring at his bruised face.

 

He feels like he’s losing control, and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Stop staring at me,” Bruce mumbles.  Tony smiles lightly, shifting until he’s lying on his side.  Bruce groans, stretching when he settles, and then he cracks open an eye, looking over at Tony.  “Stop moping,” he says, and Tony laughs, scooting closer.  “Come here,” Bruce says, holding out an arm, “I know you want to snuggle, so man up and octopus it out.”

 

Bruce rolls over onto his back, and Tony carefully curls up against him, head pillowed on his chest as Bruce wraps an arm around him, the other patting along his arm until he gets to his hand, and he tangles their fingers together, letting them rest on his stomach.  “How are you feeling?” Tony asks.

 

“Like shit,” Bruce says, “But better than yesterday.  Why are you moping?”

 

“Do you like Alex Summers?”

 

“Kind of only gay for you, I think,” Bruce says.  Though he wants to smile, Tony just remains quiet.  “Okay, what the hell,” Bruce says after a few moments, “What’s going on?”

 

“Steve’s over his place right now.”

 

“They’re friends,” Bruce says, “Wait—it’s morning.  Did he—go over there last night and stay there?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs, “He called me, and he was absolutely fucking wasted.  Went off on me about how pissed he is about having to deal with all my shit because now it’s happening with Leah.”

 

“The oldest one, right?”

 

“Yeah.  She’s been abusing prescription pills, and Steve thinks she’s doing harder drugs with her boyfriend, and I don’t know if he was blaming me, but he was certainly letting me know how much he hated putting up with all of that.”

  
“Tony,” Bruce says, rubbing a hand over his arm, “That’s not okay.”

 

“It’s fine, it’s just—”

 

“No, it’s not,” Bruce says, his arm tightening around him, “You are my best friend, and I would do anything for you, and I love you, man, I really do.  You are not some burden that we put up with or that we have to deal with, and that’s totally not fucking okay of him to say.”

 

“Bruce,” Tony sighs, “He apologized.  We’re over it, kind of.  I understand where he’s coming from right now.  Leah’s spiraling out of control, and he already watched me do that, and he’s not sure he can handle it again.  I get it.”

 

“Then what’s got you upset?”

 

“He just—it’s like he doesn’t even notice how hard I’ve been trying.  I haven’t done anything hard in _months_ , and the last time I drank was before the heart attack, and I’m trying to get sober, I really am, but it’s hard when he tries to say that he’s actually dealing with _real_ problems, and I just—I don’t want recognition, I’d just like to not be shat on while I’m trying.”

 

“That’s entirely reasonable,” Bruce says, “You deserve all of our support and love right now, and I understand that he’s going through something, but he can’t take it out on you.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, shifting closer.  He’s quiet for a while before he sighs and says, “Enough moping.  Let’s go bother my mom.”

 

They spend the rest of the day with Maria, going out to the gallery with her to work on some of the final details, and it’s not until later, when Bruce is passed out in the back, and Maria’s driving through the dark night, that Tony texts Steve, _maybe we should postpone this weekend.  You have a lot on your plate right now, and I have Bruce over, and it just feels like bad timing._ He stares at the message, trying to decide whether or not to send it.

 

“Tony,” Maria says, not looking over at him.  He hums, turning his gaze to her.  “Whatever it is, it’s not worth the headache.  The only things that matter in the world are life and love.  Get some sleep, and it’ll be gone in the morning.”

 

“Mamma,” he sighs.

 

“And if not,” Maria continues, shrugging one shoulder, “Then I’ll kick his ass.”

 

Tony smiles softly and erases the message before getting comfortable in his seat and closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, their first real fight! Granted, they’ve had plenty of fights before, but I feel like this is their first real one as a couple, at least directed at each other. I’m curious to see how you all react to Alex now—I know people were feeling wary, and for good reason, but now he’s crossing a few lines, I think.
> 
> I hope everyone is having an excellent day today, :) I certainly am. Amy, my sister, and I went out to Johnny Rockets today, which, if you’ve never been, you’re missing out big time. They have the most amazing food, and oh, the shakes. Oh, the shakes! It’s incredible, and Amy had never been, but she was in absolute heaven. And then, later tonight, I’m going out to dinner at Sawasdee, which is easily my favorite Thai restaurant, with one of my friends, Tom, before we either go to Harrison’s or watch _Lord of the Rings_ , I’m not sure how cultured I want to make him tonight.
> 
> You can ignore this, I just want to rant about what’s going on in my life right now. I feel like I’m always complaining about something, but oh well. I just recently—and by recently, I mean Sunday, so it’s still fresh in my mind and still hurts quite a bit—that my general manager, Tom, is leaving BJs to go to another company entirely. This wouldn’t hurt nearly as much if I wasn’t barely a month new into my position and wasn’t still relying fairly heavily on him for support and answers, considering he’s been training me, but most of all, it wouldn’t have absolutely torn me to pieces if he wasn’t also one of my best friends. Like I’ve said recently, everyone has gone away to grad school—Kelsey is in California, Jen is in Florida, and Erin is in Maine, so I’ve had to, quite quickly, make some new friends and figure out an entirely new social life. Tom and I have been friends since he started there, but it’s really blown up in the past couple months since I got back and got promoted. We were actually supposed to go out to get tattoos together today. It was going to be my first one—I was going to get the Marauders’ paw prints staggered like footsteps over my shoulder—and I was so excited, but life got in the way, so we weren’t able to go. Another time, perhaps. At least I still get to see him for dinner tonight. Anyway, I digress. I’m absolutely wretched at making friends, but I managed to find a really amazing friend in him and in one of the cashiers there, Heather, and I thought finally I had found friends that wouldn’t leave the state of Massachusetts, and yet, while Tom still lives about five minutes down the road from me and will still be available whenever I need him, I won’t be seeing him five days a week now, and it was just really sudden. I thought I at least had another two, maybe three months with him before he called it quits, and yet here we stand. And so, just as I was finally starting to feel comfortable and get settled in and learn the ropes, I’ve lost the one person I trusted the most because, and I’ll be honest, I trust maybe two people in that entire building, not including Tom. I have never met a group of people so conniving and backstabbing and awful as it is there, and it kills me to see him go because of them.
> 
> That’s enough bitching, though. I hope you enjoyed this, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	40. Chapter 40

When the weekend arrives, Tony tries to feel bad about leaving Bruce, but he’s practically shoving him out the door, claiming that he and Maria have plans that he’s not allowed to be around for anyway, which really just worries him more, but then Bruce is kicking him in the ass, and he rolls his eyes and leaves.

 

He picks Steve up around four even though their reservations aren’t until eight, but Steve claims he has plans enough to fill their day before then, and so Tony just follows his directions, driving farther from the city until he’s laughing as they approach an adorable bed and breakfast.  “Really?” he says.

 

“There is _snow_ on the ground, and you want to sleep outside,” Steve says, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

 

“So, your plan is to have sex until dinner?”

 

“No, that’s for later.  Come on,” he says even as he grabs his bag and gets out of the car.  Tony follows him dutifully, and after they’ve checked in and gone up to their room, which has a beautiful view of the ocean and looks so cozy that Tony just wants to roll around in the bed, Steve announces they have massages booked, and Tony groans, kissing him. 

 

They spend two hours being pampered, and when they eventually get back up to their room, Tony is loose and grinning, and they’re maybe a little late for their reservation because Steve needs to touch him, and so he presses Tony down into the bed and makes love to him.  When they do make it to the restaurant, the food is amazing and Tony is in full charm mode, so Steve can’t stop laughing at him.  They have a grand time eating and talking, and they’ve left their phones in the car, so they’re unbothered by anything but each other.

 

After, they decide to walk to the beach, though they stop by the car so Steve can grab his backpack, which contains their next experience.  It’s late by the time they get down to the beach, which has a light dusting of snow, and it’s cold enough that they’ve each got hats pulled down over their ears.

 

“What time is it?” Steve asks as he picks a spot and squats down, shrugging off his backpack.

 

“Eleven,” Tony says, shoving his hand back in his pocket after he’s checked his watch, “My balls are freezing.”

 

“You’re so gross,” Steve mutters, though he’s grinning as he stands from his backpack and turns.

 

Tony gapes at him.  “You are the most amazing boyfriend ever,” he says before he darts forward and grabs one of the fireworks.

 

They spend the next hour lighting off fireworks at the beach, shrieking and running around as they explode in the sky, a brilliant fire raining down on them.  They pause once because Tony throws a flimsy snowball at Steve, which leads to a small war, chasing each other around until Steve tackles him, cackling when Tony whines about being wet.

 

When midnight strikes, Tony lets out a whoop, sets off a firework, and tugs Steve close to him, kissing him as the sky lights up.  Steve holds onto him, hands warm against him, and he realizes, with sudden clarity, that he’s never felt more alive, more amazed, more _happy_ than when he’s with Tony.  When they part, Steve is beaming widely, and he leans their foreheads together, just soaking him in.  “I love you,” he whispers.

 

Tony lets out a quiet laugh, leans up to kiss him again, and then says, “I love you, too.”

 

They stay only a short while longer to finish celebrating the New Year, and then they head back to their room, where they stay up into the wee hours exploring each other.

 

In the morning, after Tony wakes Steve up for his second favorite kind of sex, they sleep in a little, and then they’re checking out and heading home.  Steve lingers in the car when Tony parks in his driveway, kissing him slowly, not wanting to leave him just yet, but then Emma appears in the doorway, jumping up and down in excitement, and they go in.  Tony stays over for a couple hours, hanging out with the girls, but then he’s off to help Maria finalize all the details.  He reminds them the gallery is in a week, and then he’s gone, though not before Steve kisses him long and hard at the door because he won’t be seeing him until the show, and he doesn’t want him to go.  Finally, though, he presses a kiss to Steve’s jaw, whispers his love and then he’s gone.

 

——

 

Tony doesn’t see Maria until an hour before the show.  She takes the girls out to get their nails done again, and he’s busy coercing Bruce to do errands with him again, though Betty doesn’t join them because she’s gone with Maria.  They stop by the jeweler’s to pick up a pair of beautiful diamond studs he picked out earlier in the week, and then they’re both off to the barber’s.  Howard calls him as they’re leaving the barber, and Tony makes a disgruntled noise before answering, “Father?”

 

“Where are you?” Howard asks, his voice filtering out through the car’s speakers.

 

“Just left the barber’s, headed to lunch now.”

 

“Have you picked up your mother’s shoes?”

 

“No, I’m going after.  Did you pick up the tuxes?”

 

“Did you go for your fitting yet?” Howard asks.

 

“Yes, dad,” Tony sighs, “Last week.  They’ve been ready for four days.”

 

“I’ll have someone get them,” Howard says, and Tony can tell he’s losing him to his work by the way his voice drifts.

 

“Don’t bother,” Tony says, irritated, “I’ll do it myself.  Don’t be late tonight.  She won’t forgive you, and neither will I.”  He hangs up before Howard can respond, and Bruce glances at him.

 

“That was surprisingly civil,” he says.

 

“He has been, and it’s freaking me out,” Tony admits, “Like—I don’t know what’s going on, Bruce.  He hasn’t been this way since before high school.  I mean, he’s never been kind, but he was a pretty great dad when I was little, and then after the homeschooling started, he—”

 

“Wait, you were _homeschooled_?” Bruce interrupts, gaping.

 

Tony sighs.  “I pretend it was a private school because people gave me shit about it in high school, but yeah, I was homeschooled.  Spent two years in boarding school, bitched so much they pulled me out, and then had tutors until high school, when my dad demanded I actually _go_ to school before college.  I know, I’m a brat, I’m trying to get past it.”

 

“You’re _such_ a brat,” Bruce says, rolling his eyes.

 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Tony says, “It’s just weird.  I’m used to being afraid of him, but not like this.  I don’t know when he’s going to snap, and it’s almost—worse.”

 

“What, would you rather he was abusive?” Bruce asks, and it’s not accusatory because Bruce understands, knows that if his father was suddenly calling him Bruce instead of Robert and having civil conversations with him instead of throwing punches, he’d be freaking out, as well, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

“Almost,” Tony says, shrugging, “I don’t know this version of him, and I don’t want to get to know it because then it’ll be gone whenever he eventually snaps, and I just want to skip over all the fake bullshit and get back to being the abused son and alcoholic father.”

 

Bruce nods.  “I get it,” he says, “Sucks either way, though.”

 

Tony doesn’t respond, just continues to drive, and silence settles thick and heavy between them until Tony sighs and turns on the radio, and they don’t talk about it anymore.

 

——

 

Maria’s gallery is a place transformed when the Rogers arrive.  The first floor has been completely done over, though there are some pieces that remain from the previous show, but, as before, it’s the second floor that captures their attention.  It’s still titled _little hands_ , and there’s still the beautiful piece of Tony’s profile that leads them into his collection, and there’s still the audio of his voice, but, as they progress through, Steve hears a deeper voice suddenly, a strong voice, and it takes him a moment to recognize Howard as he hears him calling out Tony’s name, and then Maria’s.

 

To the left, where the photography is contained, the room has been completely renovated.  In the middle of the floor is a sculpted tree stump, thick roots pushing up out of the floor, and the black and white photos are spread along the walls like tree branches, some clustered together, some in looping curves, and there’s so many more than last time.

 

A lot of the new ones contain Howard—there’s one of him on the sofa, head tipped back, asleep, toddler Tony lying face down in his newspaper, out cold; another of Tony peering into the engine of a car while Howard crouches next to him, pointing out something; another of Tony on Howard’s shoulders, his head resting against his father’s, eyes closed and thumb in his mouth.  Many contain Maria now, as well—Tony in a child backpack, holding onto her ponytail, surrounded by jungle; Maria pretending to throw him off a mountain while Tony shrieks with delight; infant Tony asleep on her chest, Maria’s hand pressed warmly against his back.  There are new photos that make Steve laugh, as well—toddler Tony with the ugliest cry face he thinks he’s ever seen, sopping wet and covered in mud, barefoot and standing in a puddle; making a wild face while he rides an elephant; face scrunching up with crazy laughter as he swings from a tree, knees hooked over a branch; angry, little hands balled into fists at his sides, wearing a feather boa and covered in glitter.

 

Steve spends some time looking around, learning about Tony’s life through Maria’s art, though eventually he goes out into the middle section, where Maria’s made similar additions, some containing Howard now.  The yoga section has been expanded, as well, and many of the new ones are of Maria and Tony in partner poses, many of him as a young child fitting himself into any crevice that he can find.

 

Around seven, Sara retrieves everyone to go look at the first floor, and then, a half hour later, Maria arrives.  They come out into the main room as the doors are being opened, and Steve lets out a breath as they walk in, amazed at their beauty.

 

Maria comes in with Tony on her left and Howard on her right.  They wear similar tuxedos, all black, though the shirt is dark and dull where the rest is a little brighter, shimmers just the slightest under the vibrant lights.  Howard’s hair is neatly combed back, peppered with grey, and it’s the first time Steve thinks he’s ever realized just how old Howard is.  He looks dashing regardless, with a sharp, professional smile, a hard, clean jaw, and he looks comfortable here, in a handsome suit in front of eyes and cameras.

 

Tony looks, standing next to both his parents, not entirely like Howard, and it becomes obvious very quickly how very much he is Maria’s son.  His hair is as wild as ever, but stylish tonight, his beard trim and neat, and his brilliant smile is turned to his mother, the beauty of the night.

 

Maria is exquisite.  Her dress is long and red like wine, brushing the floor and rising up to her neck, accentuating her jaw.  It comes in just below her bust, showing off the curve of her body, and then billows out around her, moving like water.  The sleeves fall in a dark pattern of lace, resting lightly against her wrists.  It’s simple, no design, but she looks gorgeous in it.  Her hair is done up in a low bun, one side curled thickly, layers tangling together to come together at the back, dark and wild.

 

There’s a moment of shocked silence before the room explodes in applause, and Maria smiles like she was born to be here.  They pause briefly there, allowing photos, before Maria is leading her men in, and they start to mingle.  Steve watches as Tony presses a quick kiss to her cheek, speaking quietly to her before she nods and kisses his hand, and then he’s off, leaving her with Howard as he makes his way over to Steve.

 

“Hey handsome,” he says as he approaches him, and Steve just grins and holds out a hand.

 

Tony takes it, letting Steve pull him close as he tilts his head up.  Steve kisses him softly, Tony warm and happy under his touch, and though he spends most of the night with Maria, Steve can’t help feeling giddy just knowing Tony is his.

 

——

 

The rest of break passes harmlessly.  They spend almost a week without each other, and by the time they finally get back to school, Steve feels like it’s been a lifetime.  He can’t really talk to him on the way there because Sara demanded Leah’s company for the drive back, and so he spends most of the drive trying to talk to her, though she steadfastly ignores him.  When they eventually arrive, Steve is feeling a little desperate about seeing him, but then they get to their room, and he’s not there.

 

Steve sighs, dropping his backpack onto their bed before going out to collect the rest.  Leah petulantly sits on their bed, arms folded across her chest, while Sara unpacks, and when Steve sees her, he gives up playing nice and digs out his phone.  _How close are you?_ he texts Tony.

 

He starts unpacking, and he’s nearly finished when he hears a loud laugh, and he smiles, looking over to the door.  It opens a few moments later, revealing Tony, who lets out the most ridiculous squawk and runs over, jumping.  Steve laughs, catching him as Maria comes in, rolling her eyes.  “You’re such a queen,” she mutters, so Tony just giggles and presses a smacking, wet kiss against Steve’s cheek before he jumps down.

 

“Dude, I have so much to tell you,” Tony says, punching his arm before he dives onto their bed, and Leah shrieks, trying to squirm away from him.  “Not so fast, speed racer!” he yelps, grabbing her and hauling her over to him in a big bear hug.  Leah whines, pushing away from him, but Tony just holds tighter.  “Submit, or I’m going to tickle you,” he threatens, and Leah huffs, settling in his arms.  “That’s not a hug!”  And then Leah’s shrieking again because Tony’s tickling her, and Steve just smiles widely and goes back to packing.

 

After Tony’s done, he grabs Leah’s hand, says, “You’re helping me get the rest of my shit out of the car, no ifs, ands, or buts!”  He drags her away, talking over her protests until eventually she just lets him pull her along.

 

“I didn’t know you’d told him,” Sara says, looking over at Steve.

 

“Is that okay?”

 

Sara nods.  “I think it’ll help.  Maria, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”  They get to talking, though Maria keeps unpacking, and Steve doesn’t pay attention until he hears the clink of his medicine bottles, and he looks over, eyes widening as he sees Maria only putting away three in his drug drawer, which has been taken over by electronics.  He nods to himself when he sees it, and then starts putting away his art supplies.

 

He’s sorting through his erasers when his phone starts ringing, and he frowns at the caller id before answering, “Alex?”

 

“ _Yo_ , Rogers!” Alex yells on the other line, “Oh my _god_ , I can’t believe it, man, we’ve got this meet coming up, _holy shit_ , and I’m not even runnin’!  What the fuck!”  A loud horn blares into the phone, and Steve winces.

 

“Alex,” Steve says again, “Where are you?”

 

“On my way to Sammy’s house, man.  If that bitch thinks he can just sideline me every time cos of the fuckin’ trannies, then I got a few words for him, yes I do.”

 

“What are you talking about?  Who?”

  
“Tran—trans—Transylvanians!  Did you know that they’re not even fuckin’ American _citizens_ , Steeeeeve?”

 

“Alex,” Steve says, shaking his head, “Who are you talking about?”

 

“The _twins_ , duh.”

 

“Oh my god,” Steve sighs, lifting a hand to scrub through his hair, “Listen.  Come to my hall, okay, and we’ll talk this out.”

 

“No way, bro, I’m goin’ to Sam’s, and I’m gonna tell him to go _fuck himself_.  I deserve that fuckin’ sprint.  It was my fuckin’ position until little Peepee took over, and—”

 

“Alex, seriously.  Don’t do this.  Come over here.”

 

“I’m gonna _fuck him up_ ,” Alex says before he hangs up, and Steve just sighs again, dropping his phone onto his desk.

 

“Alex?” Sara asks as she comes over, “Everything okay?”

 

“He’s wasted,” Steve says, shrugging one shoulder, “And pissed off that he’s not running sprints for our meet.”

 

“I thought that was Pietro’s race.”

 

“It is,” Steve says, “And it should be.  I don’t know, I heard some talk that Alex used to run sprints until Pietro came in about a year and a half ago, and he’s leagues faster than Alex, who I guess is still sore about it.”  Steve pushes away from his desk, getting up.  “I should go find him before he does something stupid.  Thanks for driving me up.”

 

“Be safe,” Sara says, hugging him.

 

They say their goodbyes, Steve embraces Maria, and then he’s heading out.  Tony and Leah are coming across the street as he leaves the building, and he waves when he sees them.  “Hey, what’s up?” Tony says.

 

“I have to go find Alex, stop him from being an asshole.  I have my phone.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, sounding a little forlorn, “I’ll see you later, then.”

 

Leah strides past them before Steve can turn to her, and Steve just grits his teeth and walks away.  “You’re kind of a bitch,” he hears Tony say before he’s out of earshot, and it makes him smile a little.

 

“Don’t be an asshole,” Leah mutters, storming up the steps.

 

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” Tony says, following her, “Guess what, you can’t get in the building without me.”

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Leah groans, rolling her eyes, “First you take me on this pointless walk, and then you talk to me about some new planet they found, and why the fuck do you think I care about that?”

 

“Did you want me to talk to you about what’s been going on?” Tony asks.

 

“No, asshole,” Leah says, going over to the picnic table and dumping down onto it.

 

“Which is why I didn’t,” Tony says, opening the door, “Because I’ve been right where you are, my mom watching my every move, sleeping in my bed at night, forcing me to submit to weekly drug tests until she was _sure_ I’d stopped using, and then, finally, that look of disappointment when she realized that just because she’d forced me to get clean didn’t mean I was going to stay sober.  Do you even know how enormously fucked up it is that, at twenty-two, I actually had to make an effort at getting sober?  The fact that it’s _still_ difficult for me not to drink or snort a line or pop a pill after a month, when it shouldn’t have been difficult at all, disgusts me, and you should be disgusted with yourself that you’re treating your family this way.  Do you really want to turn into me, Leah?” he asks when she stands up and starts to stalk past him, but he grabs her arm and jerks her to a stop, “Do you really want to end up in a hospital bed, wondering what the hell it was this time only to realize you’d accidentally overdosed with no recollection of anything that happened other than what you’re told?  That is going to happen, Leah.  I don’t care if you think you’re being careful, you _are_ going to end up hurt.”

 

“Let go of me,” Leah whispers, her eyes wide and wet, and Tony does as she asks, letting her run away from him.

 

With a deep breath, he heads in after her, and Sara’s exiting his room when he rounds the corner.  “Hey,” she says as he approaches, “How’d it go?”

 

Tony shrugs.  “As well as expected.  Sara, I want to—”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Sara cuts him off, stepping in and pulling him against her, hugging him tightly.  “It’s not your fault,” she says softly, “Don’t you dare say that you might have been a bad influence or that she could have seen the behavior as acceptable from you.  Shut up,” she adds when Tony starts to protest, “If anything, I should be thanking you for helping Steve through this and for maybe helping Leah see what addiction can lead to.  Tony,” Sara sighs, releasing him, “I love you, sweetheart.  We are very lucky to have you as a part of our family.”

 

“Thank you,” Tony murmurs, managing a small smile, “I, uh—I don’t know what to say.”

  
“Just promise to keep taking care of my boy.”

 

“Always,” Tony says, his smile widening a little, “He’s what gives me strength these days.”

 

“I should go,” Sara says, looking past Tony, “Leah’s pretending not to notice us.  Be good.”

 

She hugs him again, and then she’s gone, and Tony’s left lingering in the hallway, trying to compose himself before he goes back into his room, and Maria’s sitting on his bed, looking through a small photo album.  “I didn’t know you had this here,” she says without looking up.

 

Tony smiles, coming over.  “I needed some kind of memorabilia of you,” he says, dropping down next to her and leaning against her, head settling on her shoulder.  “I love that one,” he says, pointing to the picture she’s currently stopped on.  It’s of them when he was seven, the first time she’d let him hike on his own, and he’d veered off the path when she wasn’t looking so he could climb a tree.  When she finally found him, he was clinging to a branch, singing about why he loved monkeys as he inched closer to the edge of the branch.  Maria had fallen over laughing, and she’d waited until he realized he was stuck before she finally went to help him.

 

“That was Brazil, right?”

 

“The Amazon,” Tony says, “We haven’t gone in so long, mamma, we need to go back.  It’s my favorite forest.”

 

“Mine, too, bambino,” Maria says, dropping a kiss to his hair.  They’re quiet for a bit, Maria flipping through the album until she sighs suddenly, turning her face into Tony’s hair and letting out a heavy breath.

 

“Mamma?”

 

“I hate leaving you here.”

 

“I know,” Tony murmurs, snuggling closer to her and winding his arms around her, “I hate letting you leave.  My first semester here was terrible.  I wanted to come home every day.”

 

“You never told me,” Maria says, closing the album and holding him, “Why didn’t you call me more?”

 

“I didn’t want to worry you.  It had been so long since I’d seen the worried face, and I didn’t want to see it again.  You’re so beautiful when you’re smiling.”

 

Maria laughs, leaning away from him, but not before she kisses his hair and then his forehead.  “Sei felice qui, bambino?  **(Are you happy here?)** ”

 

“Sì, mamma.  Sei felice a casa?  **(Are you happy at home?)** ” he asks, looking over at her.  Maria shrugs one shoulder and puts on a smile Tony knows all too well.  “Non mentire a me, **(Don’t lie to me.)** ” he says before she can answer him, “So che le cose sono state buone con il papà, ma io odio chiedendo quando sta andando alla fine, quando stiamo per tornare ad abuso e alcool.  Dimmi la verità.  Sei felice?  **(I know things have been good with dad, but I hate wondering when it's going to end, when we're going to be back to abuse and alcohol.  Tell me the truth.  Are you happy?)** ”

 

“Cerco di essere, **(I try to be.)** ” Maria says, taking one of his hands and lifting it to kiss his knuckles before she twines their fingers together, “È sufficiente?  **(Is that enough?)** ”

 

“No,” Tony says simply.  He holds her gaze before sighing and tugging on her hand until she follows him higher up on the bed, lying on her side as he curls up on his.  He takes her hand again, letting their tangled fingers rest between them.  “Andiamo via.  **(Let’s go away.)** ”

 

Maria sighs, “Dove, amore mio?  Egli sarà sempre trovarci.  **(Where, my love?  He will always find us.)** ”

 

“Non nasconde, **(Not hiding.)** ” Tony clarifies, “Basta distanza.  Siamo in grado di trasferirsi in un appartamento insieme.  Non abbiamo nemmeno bisogno di lasciare Manhattan.  Facciamo solo andare via da lui.  **(Just away.  We can move into an apartment together.  We don't even have to leave Manhattan.  Let us just go away from him.)** ”

 

“Antonio—”

 

“Mamma,” Tony says, squeezing her hand, “Per favore.  Odio vivere così.  Odio sentirmi così è peggio di quando mi colpisce.  Odio che ho ancora ritraggo ogni volta che si avvicina troppo, perché non sarò mai altro che una delusione per lui, ma con te, io sono felice.  Sto bene.  Sono sicuro, mamma, e ho bisogno che tu sia, anche.  Per favore.  **(I hate living like this.  I hate feeling like this is worse than when he hits me.  I hate that I still flinch every time he gets too close because I will never be anything but a disappointment to him, but with you, I'm happy.  I'm okay.  I'm safe, mamma, and I need you to be, too.)** ”

 

Maria is silent for a long time.  She closes her eyes, trying to imagine what that life would be like, just her and Tony living together, away from Howard’s poison, and, without meaning to, she thinks of something he once said to her, right before Tony was born.  They’d been out to lunch, and it had been playful like it was in the beginning.  He had been so charming, and she had been so in love, all over again, and then she’d told him that she’d planned on leaving him before she knew she was pregnant, and he had said, _I know.  Do you still want to?_ She hadn’t known what to say, and he didn’t leave her room for consideration before he’d told her, _I won’t stop you.  You could leave right now, take the car, pack your bags, and never come back, and I wouldn’t come looking for you, if that’s what you wanted_.

 

She still wonders why she didn’t take the opportunity, and now, it’s being offered to her again.

 

“Okay,” Maria says suddenly, opening her eyes.  Tony stirs, opening his, as well, and she smiles, reaching over her free hand to stroke over his face.  “Okay,” she says again, and Tony’s mouth stretches into a wide beam before he scoots over, burrowing against her.

 

——

 

When Steve finally finds Alex, he hasn’t made it to Sam’s, but Pietro is currently herding him out of one of the residential halls.  “Oh good, have you come to collect?” Pietro mutters, giving Alex a shove, who starts up again, so Pietro yells, “Shut the fuck up, you—naibii de pizdă.”

 

“Oh, look at me, mister fancy dancy man speakin’ in my fancy dancy language!”

 

“I’m gonna fucking murder him,” Pietro says, giving Alex another shove so he staggers down the front steps.  He follows him, rolling his eyes as Steve approaches.  “Did he call you?”

 

“Unfortunately,” Steve says, watching Alex try to walk until he just sags to the right and then falls face first into the dirt.  “Well, that’s great,” he says, looking away, “How are you?”

 

“Bored shitless.  Hey, so Wanda and I are throwing a party at mine cos I have a single after the meet.  You should invite Tony and come over after.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds awesome,” Steve says, and then frowns, “What kind of party?”

 

“Man, I _know_ you’re not Nancyin’ out on me, come on.”

 

“No, just—Tony can’t drink anymore.”

 

“Shit,” Pietro says, “Did something happen?”

  
“He, uh—” he stalls, not sure if this is really something he should be going around talking about, but he figures Tony will spread rumors about himself anyway—he likes to do that whenever something happens, get people talking so they don’t actually know the truth—so he continues, “He had a heart attack recently.”

 

“Holy fuck, Steve,” Pietro says, mouth dropping open, “Really?  Dude, I’m so sorry, that’s awful.  Obviously, I won’t say anything, but don’t worry about it, you don’t _have_ to drink.  We’re not assholes, we’re not gonna give him shit unless he’s a party pooper, and then I will be on top of him.”

 

“No, he’s kind of wild when it comes to parties, actually.  Speaking of, is this an Alex kind of party or—”

  
“No _way_ , we’re going old school, drop some Dracula on your asses.  We are going to burn, burn, burn, man.”

 

“Like fabulous yellow roman candles?” Steve shoots right back, and Pietro grins, giving his arm a punch.

 

“I knew I liked you,” Pietro says, nodding, “Hey, I meant to ask you.  We should totally race sometime again.  I feel like we haven’t in ages.  Sam keeps doing his moody face whenever I ask him, but I heard that you and Alex go early sometimes.  Maybe I could step in once or twice, go toe to toe again?  You actually make me work, it’s fucking fantastic.”

 

“Yeah, definitely,” Steve says, smiling, “Anytime.  I’m going to take that as a compliment because I feel like I’m eating your dust when we run.”

 

“You should let me train you a bit, get those legs pumpin’ faster and faster and _hey, asshole_!” he breaks off, looking over at Alex, “Don’t fucking puke on the stairs!  Have some decency and go in the bushes!  Mother of—what the fuck is his problem?”

 

“He didn’t tell you?” Steve says, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Oh, I know what his problem is,” Pietro says, shaking his head, “He does this shit all the time.  Gets wasted and comes to set me straight.  Listen, I’m freezing my toes off, I’m gonna head back inside.  You wanna come hang for a bit?  No, wrong question,” he adds when he sees Steve’s face, “You haven’t seen Tony in a while, go get some ass.”

 

Steve laughs, and then looks over at Alex.  “What about him?”

  
“I already called campus security,” Pietro says, shrugging, “He lasted a while this time.  First offense this year.  Nearly got kicked out last year, but I let him slide a lot, just leave him outside to wind down.  Catch you at practice tomorrow?” he asks as he starts to head off.

 

“Absolutely.  See you later.”

 

He waits while Pietro goes back inside, watching Alex, and eventually he goes over, kneeling by him and giving his shoulder a shove so he tips over onto his back.  “I fucked up,” Alex mutters.

 

“Yeah, big time.  Do you want me to do anything?”

 

“Did the asshole call security?”  When Steve nods, Alex groans and lifts up a hand.  “Get me out of here.  Scott’s going to skin me alive if I get another demerit.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t get drunk in the afternoon,” Steve says, hauling him to his feet and dipping down so he can sling one of Alex’s arms around his shoulders.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t side with dipshit,” Alex says, pushing away from him, “Listen, if you’re gonna gang up on me, just fuck off, I can handle myself.”

 

“Alex,” Steve sighs, “Come on, man.  You’re being irrational.”

 

“Oh, irrational?  Fuckin’ wonderful, I’m being _irrational_ ,” Alex mutters, crossing his arms and glaring at Steve.

 

“You know,” Steve says, allowing a small smirk to form, “I have three younger sisters.  I’m kind of a pro at dealing with hissy fits.”  He walks away without waiting for Alex’s response, though he certainly hears him yelling as he heads back to his hall, and it just makes him roll his eyes.  Even Emma’s given him worse than Alex’s giving him now.

 

——

 

That night, after they’ve gone to dinner with Betty and Bruce and hung out with them for a while, Steve drops down in front of his desk to work on a sketch and Tony calls Rhodey to see what classes he’s taking this semester.  They spend the night apart, occasionally chatting with each other while they work, but then, a little after midnight, Tony comes over, drops a kiss on Steve’s shoulder, and says, “Wanna go to bed, muscles?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, tipping his head back.  Tony smiles, kissing him before he goes over to the bed, diving on and stretching out.  “Queen,” Steve comments, finishing up on his laptop before he shuts it down and heads over to his dresser to change.

 

“You are _fine_ , butt cheeks,” Tony says as Steve pulls off his shirt, stretching, “Track was a good idea.”

 

“Stop objectifying me.”

 

“Why?” Tony guffaws, shucking off his pants and throwing them over the side of the bed, “You can objectify me anytime you want.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, though he’s grinning as he steps out of his pants and changes into a pair of sweats.  Tony makes a noise akin to a whine, so he tosses a pair over to him, as well, before grabbing a shirt for both of them and heading back over to their bed.  He pulls back the blankets on his side as Tony’s squirming into his sweats, and then he rolls up into a ball, giving Steve his best adorable smile so Steve will tug the blankets out from under him.

 

Once settled, Tony yawns and presses against Steve, curling around him and _purring_ until Steve laughs and blows a raspberry on his cheek, so he squirms away, swatting at him.  When he stops being obnoxious, Steve reaches out for his hand, kissing his fingers before he says, “You said you had a lot to tell me.”

 

“I got a clean bill of health,” Tony says, grinning, “Went to the doctor’s a few days before we came back, and I am in the clear.”

 

“Hey, that’s awesome.  How’s being clean going?”

 

“It’s alright,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder, “I’m still heavily tempted, but you and my mom help.”

 

“How so?” Steve asks, surprised.

 

“Presence does wonders.  Also, drum roll, I have officially been accepted into MIT for graduate school.”

 

“Shut up!” Steve exclaims, beaming, “Really?”  When Tony nods, he surges forward, kissing him hard.  “That’s so amazing,” he says when they part, “Oh my god, I’m so proud of you.”  Tony just wrinkles his nose and kisses Steve again, hiding his smile.

 

“I know, I’m awesome,” Tony says cheekily, laughing when Steve gives him a light push, “There was another thing, but I can’t remember, so I’ll just tell you the thing that happened today.  My mom and I talked about moving out of the mansion.”

 

“What?” Steve says, his smile fading instantly, “To where?  What do you mean?”

  
“No, I’d still be in Manhattan,” Tony says, recognizing his fear, “We’re not running from my dad, just getting away from him.  I think she was serious about it, so this could actually be something that really happens.  I want it so bad, Steve.”

 

“I thought things were good between you, though.”

 

Tony shrugs one shoulder, reaching a leg forward to slide in between Steve’s.  “It’s neutral, I guess you could call it,” he says, “He’s not hitting me, but it doesn’t matter.  I’m still waiting for the next blow.  I’m still waiting for him to get blackout drunk and show up with a belt in hand.  I’m still waiting to wake up and see my mother’s face black and blue, to see her sitting gingerly and trying to pretend like nothing is wrong.  I don’t want to live like this anymore.  I don’t want to live with him.  I don’t deserve it.”

 

“You don’t,” Steve says, reaching out and pulling Tony closer to him, “You deserve only love.”

 

Tony starts to make a smartass response, so Steve kisses him, quieting him.  “That only works sometimes,” Tony says when he pulls away.

 

“Hokum,” Steve says, smirking.

 

Tony gapes at him before he says, “Hokum—noun.  Out and out nonsense.  Elements of low comedy introduced into a play, novel, etc. for the laughs they may bring.  False or irrelevant material introduced into a speech, essay, etc. in order to arouse interest, excitement, or amusement.  Origin—1915-1920.  Americanism, probably a blend of hocus pocus and bunkum.  You’re an assholate.”

 

“That is the most ridiculous word I think I’ve ever heard you make up.  We were invited to a party today.”

 

“At Alex’s?” Tony says, sounding a little sour.

 

“Get off your high horse,” Steve says, “He’s not as bad as you make him out to be.”

 

“He likes your dick.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“I’m allowed to!” Tony says, slapping the bed, “It’s my dick.”

 

“It’s mine, actually,” Steve counters with.

 

“Yeah, good luck sucking it yourself,” Tony mutters petulantly.

 

Steve rolls his eyes.  “At Pietro’s.”

 

“Yo, I love his name,” Tony says, “He’s a badass.”

 

“You’ve never even met him.”

 

“His name is _Pietro Maximoff_.  Of course he’s cool, he sounds like an assassin.  Where’s he from?”

 

“Transylvania.”

 

“I’m wearing vampire teeth to the party.”

 

“Tony—”

  
“I’m doing it, you can’t stop me.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“Do you vant to suck my blood, Steven?” Tony says, his voice heavily, and badly, accented.

 

In response, Steve tackles him, laughing when Tony starts shrieking, and they roll around in bed, Steve tickling, until Tony’s gasping for breath, and only then does Steve let him go, settling again and looking over at Tony with a fond smile.

 

“Assholate,” Tony mutters, and Steve laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, the next chapter may be the last one for a while, though it does have a lot of fun things in it! I hope you enjoyed this one, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes—
> 
> i. This is a music note! So I think, honestly, Pietro’s got a pretty weird taste in music, and he throws a party in this one, so I think some fun songs to listen to would be, and it doesn’t really make sense, but [Young Blood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YuSg4mts9E) by Naked and Famous, [Lose Your Soul](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnEkboR86h0) by Dead Man’s Bones, and [When I Grow Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4F-CpE73o2M) by Fever Ray, in that order.

“Dude, no,” Johnny says later that week over the phone.

 

“Oh, come on,” Tony whines, throwing his meds across the bed before he starts shutting down his laptop, “I don’t wanna go alone.  It’s going to be _boring_.”

 

“Then call someone who actually goes to your school.  I’ve got shit to do, man.  I can’t be fucking off for a couple hours to go to a track meet that’s not even for my school where I barely know anyone.”

 

“John _ny_ ,” Tony whines again, “All my friends are in the meet.  Come on, torch.”

 

“Call Rhodey or—who’s your other friend?  Do you _have_ any other friends?”

 

“Rude,” Tony says, grabbing his tablet and going over to the bed so he can put it in his backpack, “Of course I have friends.  Three of them.  They just all happen to be running in the meet.”

 

“You should make new friends,” Johnny says, and Tony makes a face at the laugh he can hear in his voice.

 

“Whatever, butt nugget.”

 

“Oh my god, you are absolutely the _worst_ at insults,” Johnny finally breaks, laughing loudly, “You’re so lame, I can’t even believe you.  Go make friends, loser.”

 

“I’m not a loser!” Tony squeaks, “You’re a— _loser_.”  Johnny dissolves into giggles, so Tony puts him on speaker and throws his phone on the bed.  “I can probably convince Rhodey.”

 

“Then why are you still talking to me?  Listen, hot pants, I’ve got to finish this homework and then take my spider out for a date, but we need to hang soon, you hear?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony groans, “I haven’t seen you in forever, it sucks.  Stop going to a different school.”

 

“Stop being too lazy to drive a half hour, To _ny_.”

 

“Oh, shove off.”

 

“Catch you on the flip side!” Johnny exclaims before he hangs up.

 

Tony grins as he shakes his head, and then he dials Rhodey before he checks to make sure he’s got everything he needs to distract himself until Steve, Bruce, and Betty are doing something—Bruce had told him track meets were incredibly boring for spectators, so he’s packed enough to keep him busy for hours.

 

“Tony!” Rhodey answers enthusiastically, “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages, man.  What’s up?”

 

“What are you doing for the next possibly four hours?”

 

“I feel like I’m going to regret saying nothing, but nothing.”

 

“Wanna go to the school’s track meet with me?  It’s an hour away, and I absolutely cannot fathom going alone.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Rhodey says, “That actually sounds fun.  I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

 

“I’m on my way over,” Tony says before hanging up, and then he shuts his backpack and heads out.

 

——

 

After they spend the _entire_ car ride arguing about one of their classes together, biophysics, Tony finally concedes that maybe Rhodey’s right about his point, and Rhodey does a little dance after they’ve parked and gotten out.

 

Tony starts to reach for a rock, but Rhodey ducks behind the car and yells, “Anthony Stark, don’t you dare!”

 

“James Rhodes!” Tony yells back.

 

“Not the same effect,” Rhodey says, coming out from behind the car, “Is anyone allowed to call you Anthony?”

 

“My mom,” Tony says, shouldering his backpack, “But only in Italian.”

 

“Italian?” Rhodey repeats, “What—Antonio?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, nodding.  They head off toward the bleachers as Tony continues, “She raised me in Italian, so whenever she was mad, she would call me Antonio.”

 

“She _raised you in Italian_?  Dude, you’re so from another planet, that’s so badass,” Rhodey says, giving him a light shove.

 

“Another planet?” Tony repeats, “Steve said that to me once.  Why?”

 

“You are on another intellectual plane entirely than most of us humans around here, even me, man.  I _know_ you dumb shit down for me, I can hear you doing it, and it’s totally subconscious, I think, but imagine how Steve must feel.  I’m not calling him stupid,” he says quickly, “I think he’s very intelligent, from what you’ve told me and what little I’ve seen, and hell, if someone asked me to do some of the sketches I’ve seen him do, I’d probably start crying.  He’s a freaking genius with—with—I dunno, whatever he uses.”

 

“Charcoal, usually,” Tony says, glancing over at Rhodey.

 

“See!” Rhodey says, “I bet you know your way around a—charcoal thing.”

 

Tony laughs, but doesn’t correct him, instead shrugging.  “Well, I kind of have to.  My mom taught me a lot growing up, and, I mean, with blueprints, you kind of need to have some artistic skill.”

 

“This is what I’m talking about,” Rhodey says as they stop by the front, Tony paying for their admission before they head inside, “It’s not a bad thing, not at all, but your level of intellect is so much higher than his, than mine, than pretty much everyone at this meet right now, probably more than most of the professors at school.  Be honest.  Who can you actually talk to that can just give it right back?”

 

“Bruce and Betty,” Tony says without thinking, “Well, Bruce gets lazy and turns off sometimes.”

 

“There you go,” Rhodey says, “Exactly why you’re friends with them.  I think you gravitate toward people with a similar intellectual level, and I’m not even saying just science.  You and Steve are on similar planes as artistic humans, right, you and me for anatomical and biological reasons, you, Bruce, and Betty for whatever geniuses talk about, and I bet you could find something similar in every relationship you have.  Take Johnny for example.  What is he majoring in?”

 

“Mechanical engineering.”

 

“Duh, your first major.  This is easy as pie to figure out, short stuff,” Rhodey says, grinning, “I should major in Tony psychology.”

 

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” Tony laughs.

 

“No wait, it’s like Tonysexual, I’m coming up with a term for it, hold on—Tonyology.  That’s it, I’m declaring it when we get back.  A minor, maybe a double major, we’ll see.  Do you agree to be my primary test subject?  Too bad,” Rhodey goes on before he can answer, and Tony just laughs harder, “Tonyology, the study of Tony Stark and his obnoxious behaviors and hey!” he adds when Tony shoves him, though it’s weak because he’s shaking as he laughs.  “I’m being serious!”

  
“You’re being an ass is what you’re being,” Tony says before he starts climbing the bleachers, “I can’t believe this thing is outside.”

 

“I know, isn’t it too cold?” Rhodey asks, following him.

 

“I dunno, Steve said that it was far enough inland that the ocean breeze wasn’t a problem, and it hasn’t snowed in a while, so they decided to have it outside.  Whatever, my balls are gonna freeze off.  Hey, I’m smart, I brought a blanket.”

 

“You’re such a _mom_ ,” Rhodey says, flopping down next to Tony.

 

“My mom reminded me that I needed one,” Tony admits, “I’m horrible at taking care of myself.”

 

“You’re a genius,” Rhodey says, “Your intellect is required elsewhere.”

 

“Exactly!” Tony exclaims, turning to him, and then he sees Rhodey’s eye roll.  “Fuck off, jerk butt.”

 

“You are _so_ pretentious.”

 

“I am _not_.”

 

“Lies and propaganda.”

 

They try to argue about Tony’s genius, but eventually devolve into bitching about the cold until that eventually leads them to subzero temperatures, and then they’re talking about deep sea.

 

Tony only pays attention when he has to or when Rhodey gets distracted, and otherwise they stay bundled up under his blanket, sipping tea from the thermos he brought, which was actually his idea.  They chatter about anything that pops into their minds, pausing only to watch Steve run a 1600, and then Betty for hurdles, Bruce for an 800, and then it’s mostly just a waiting game until, finally, hours later, the meet is over and Steve jogs over to the barrier, looking up.  “Couple more minutes, okay?” he calls up, “Pietro’s gonna convince one of the refs to time us.”

 

“Doing what?” Tony asks as he comes down the bleachers.

 

“400.  It’ll be quick, I promise.”

 

“Steve!” Pietro calls.

 

Steve waves before jogging back over to Pietro, who’s grinning wickedly.  They set up, a few other college teams lingering to watch, most of the UMF team still hanging around.  Pietro placed first, and has for the past three years, in every race he ran, so his name is rather well known in the track and field circle.  “You ready?” Pietro says, glancing over at Steve.

 

“Eat my dust, Maximoff.”

 

“Oh, you’re on, Rogers.”

 

They set, mark, and then they’re off, putting their all as they sprint around the track, legs moving _hard_ beneath them, and Pietro still manages to beat him.  Steve lets out a yell when Pietro crosses the finish line, following a few feet behind him.  “Steve,” Pietro says, grinning as he lifts a hand for a high five, “You’re getting better.  Almost had me on that turn.”

 

“Not a chance,” Steve says, clapping hands with him, “I’m dead now.”

 

Pietro nods.  “Yeah, we should probably save this shit for not after meets.  Hey, you coming back to mine tonight?”

 

“Absolutely.  Still cool if Tony comes?”

 

“Duh,” Pietro says, “Party hard, man.  Hey, bitchcup, what was that earlier?” he adds, heading for Wanda.

 

“Oi, fuck off, _bolt_ ,” Wanda snaps back at him, and they start arguing as they head for the school to change.

 

Steve goes back over to the barrier, where Tony and Rhodey are waiting.  “Don’t forget, Pietro’s tonight,” Steve says, lifting onto his toes.

 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna drop Rhodey off first.  Are you coming back to the room?”

 

“I wanna change,” Steve says, smiling when Tony leans down to kiss him.  It’s a quick, but soft kiss, and it warms Tony to his core.  “I’ll see you there,” Steve says, waving before he heads off.

 

——

 

It’s nearing nine when they get to Pietro’s after stopping off for dinner, Bruce and Betty in tow.  It’s about ten minutes walking distance from their resident hall to Pietro and Wanda’s, and they spend the walk bundled up against the cold, chatting about the meet until they’re walking up the steps to where Wanda is waiting to let them in.

 

“Hey!” she exclaims, “You’re just in time.  Pietro just cracked a bunch of glow sticks, we’re going old school awesome.  Come on.”

 

She herds them in, leading them toward the stairs and up three flights until they’re heading down the hall toward a room bursting with sound.  Tony looks over at Steve, grinning, who returns it widely—it’s been a long time since they went out like this, just let loose and had fun, and he’s excited to see what tonight brings.

 

Pietro has a _huge_ single, and all the lights are off but for a few strobe lights, flaring through the room in violent, bright eruptions.  Wanda heads in, and the four of them plunge in after her, shedding jackets even as they’re tossed glow sticks.  Alex comes running over to them in a white shirt, his movements jerking in the light, and Tony just barely hears him let out a wild yelp before he slaps Steve’s ass, cackling when Steve jumps.  Betty’s distracted convincing Wanda to give her another glow stick, but Bruce looks over at Tony, gauging his reaction, and, to his surprise, Tony just shrugs and reaches up to pull off his hat, tossing it over with his jacket.

 

He lifts a hand up to tousle his hair, mussing it up, and then he drops a kiss on Steve’s shoulder and steps in toward the small mess of people, dancing freely and wildly.  It’s not at all like the other parties they’ve been to, but smaller, more intimate, and Steve finds he’s already enjoying it more than usual.  He can see Pietro’s mouth moving, hears Tony’s name, and smiles when Tony nods, offering a hand and then tugging Pietro toward him when Pietro goes for a shake.  Pietro laughs and dances with him, waving Wanda over.

 

And then, without warning, Alex’s breath is drifting out over Steve’s ear.  “So that’s the boyfriend,” he says, and he looks a little smug in a way that makes Steve want to smack him.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, and then decides he’d rather be spending his time with his incredible boyfriend than someone who wrongly thinks they have a chance.  And so, he leaves Alex, going over to Tony and winding his fingers around his wrist, pulling him out from between Pietro and Wanda.  Tony goes, turning into Steve and lifting onto his toes as his fingers thread through the back of his hair, tilting him down.  They meet halfway, Tony’s mouth hard but slow against Steve’s, and he kisses him all for show, Tony showing him what he’s made of even as Steve gives it back.

 

When they pull apart, Tony’s grinning loosely, and he turns in Steve’s hands again, moving easily against him.  Steve keeps his hands pinned around Tony’s hips, thumbs stroking up to brush over his lower back as Tony tips his head back, lets it thud against Steve’s chest, and Steve’s breath leaves him in a rush, ghosting over Tony’s jaw.  “I miss you,” he says softly.

 

“I’m right here,” Tony says, slowing.

 

Steve’s arms slide around him, pulling him closer, just holding him, pressing their temples together.  “Don’t ever leave me again.”

 

Tony knows what he means, knows that he still thinks about the heart attack, knows that he’s still afraid, and he nods, tilting up until he can reach Steve, can kiss him.  It’s slow and easy, and when they pull apart, Steve looks a little more okay.

 

The track changes, and Tony grins, turning in his arms again.  “Hang on tight,” he says, and Steve laughs, pulling him close.  They dance like they haven’t in a long time, fused together and lost in each other, their worlds orbiting one another like there’s no one else in the room.

 

Betty and Bruce are nearby, Betty’s hair falling around her, Bruce’s hands roaming her body, laughing as Betty just lets loose, arms in the air and expression one of open joy.  Pietro is close, too, his body moving ridiculously, Wanda and Sam mimicking him, and Steve laughs when he sees them, presses it into Tony’s neck.

 

It’s not long before Pietro calls for drinks, and he heads over to a small fridge, kneeling down and pulling things out.  Alex laughs when he peeks inside and says, “Do you have any food in there?”

 

“Put it in Wanda’s for the night,” Pietro says, handing him up a beer, “You cool, man?”

 

“Don’t be a pussy,” Alex mutters, taking the beer, “It was just a little spat.”

 

“What _ever_ , you fuckin’ queen.  Steve, what’s your poison?” Pietro calls out.

 

Steve looks over at Tony, who’s distracted trying to weasel his way in between Bruce and Betty, so he says, “Beer’s fine,” and then to Alex, “Stop being a douche.”

 

“Listen, I know you’re on his side now, but—”

 

“Alex,” Steve groans, rolling his eyes, “I’m on no one’s side.  There are no _sides_.  We’re friends, man, simple as that.”

 

Alex lifts a finger, jabbing it toward Pietro as Steve takes a beer.  “He—”

 

“Nothing,” Steve cuts him off, giving him a nudge so he’ll walk away, “He nothing.  Just drop it.  We’re all hanging out, having a fun night together.  Just let it go for now, okay?”  Alex looks over at him, frowning, and Steve tries for a smile, elbowing him.  “Come on, kid.”

 

“Oh, _kid_?” Alex says, grin sliding into place, “I think I’m probably older than you, muscles.  You got any moves?”

 

Alex imitates whatever Pietro’s been doing all night, and Steve laughs, taking a long pull of his beer before he puts it down and joins him.  Steve feels like he was made to be right here, in these moments, sound leaking through his veins as music thunders around him, drowned out all thoughts but the next shift of his body, and he lets it carry him away, lets it fill him up and pull him under, lets himself surrender to what the next beat brings.

 

The beat drops as the track switches, Alex steps closer, and somehow, miraculously, what happens next doesn’t end in an altercation.  It’s a low, powerful song that trickles something dangerous through Steve until his blood is hot and he wants to let out a wild roar, wants to find Tony and pull a scream from him.

 

He looks over, sees Tony coming, and grins as he finds something carnal in his gaze.  He moves like a predator, coming at him slowly, his gait confident and easy, his whole demeanor letting Steve know he’s going to be flat on his back later tonight, Tony rising high above him, _taking_.

 

Steve groans, turns even as Tony reaches him, says, “My khaleesi.”

 

“Careful,” Tony _purrs_ , “I am absolutely going to request that if you use it again.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

“Talk dirty to me why don’t you,” Tony says, stepping in.

 

Alex snorts.

 

Tony ignores him, but Steve looks over, frowning.  “What?” he says.

 

Alex shrugs one shoulder, his grin sliding into something mean and crooked.  “He’s exactly what I expected.”

 

“Ex _cuse_ you?” Tony says, looking over even as he dips one hand into the back pocket of Steve’s jeans.

 

Alex looks him up and down, comes away unimpressed.  “From what I’ve heard, you’re a real piece of work, drama queen.”

 

Alex starts to turn away, Tony leans up and kisses Steve’s jaw, and then says, “Listen, fuckwad.”  Alex whips around, mouth opening, but Tony just keeps going, “This—” he jerks a hand between Alex and Steve, “—ain’t never gonna happen, Summers, so you just keep on pining at a distance.”  Alex steps in, ready to snap back at him, and Tony’s voice drops as he leans forward and says, “And if you don’t, this pretty mouth is going to start spewing something you’re not ready for.  I will unleash a tidal wave of shit upon you.”

 

“The fuck you think you got over me?” Alex says, eyes darting over Tony’s face.

 

“Ask Joshua,” Tony says, and Alex’s eyes blow wide as he straightens, “That’s what I thought.  Now kindly fuck off.”

 

Alex goes immediately, jerking away and heading for the door, grabbing his jacket on his way.  “Hey,” Steve says, pulling Tony back, “What did you say?”

 

“Nothing.  I’m sorry,” he says, starting to step back, “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Steve says, holding onto him, “He’s been a dick lately.  Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, smiling, “’Mere.”  He leans up, and Steve goes, lets himself drown in Tony as he kisses him until he’s consumed by the taste of his heart thrumming through his mouth and the sharp scent of his minty breath, the touch of his warm hand in his jeans pocket and the quiet sound of a soft moan that escapes him when Steve angles them away from the door and back into the noise.

 

After that, the party continues on.  Alex texts Steve apologizing for being such a dick, and Steve just sighs and sends back, _it’s whatever, man.  Just stop being so shitty to everyone.  I wanna be your friend, but not if you’re going to make it hell_.  He shuts off his phone after that and just spends the night getting buzzed, dancing, and having a good time.

 

Around midnight, Pietro lights up a blunt, and Tony lets out a cheer.  “Thought you weren’t into this shit anymore,” he says as he hands it off.

 

“Just alcohol and hard drugs,” Tony says before inhaling deeply.  He hums as smoke curls out around his nostrils and mouth.  “You’ll have to come over to our room sometime,” he says, handing the blunt over to Steve, “I’ve got a killer stash.  Top notch.”

 

“ _Wandaaaaaa_ ,” Pietro whines as he starts rolling another blunt, “Turn it down, it’s chill time.”  Wanda rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue, but she turns down the music regardless before coming over to flop over Pietro.  “What a—” Pietro cuts off with a shriek as Wanda wet willies him and then jumps away, going to sit with Sam.

 

Steve drops down next to Tony on Pietro’s bed, tugging him over, and Tony goes, tucking up under his arm and snuggling against him as he takes the blunt from Steve.

 

“So Tony,” Sam says from Wanda’s bed, where Wanda has curled up, head in Sam’s lap as he strokes his fingers through her long hair, “What’d you think of the meet?”

 

“Long,” Tony says, exhaling, “Boring.  Kind of interesting.”

 

They all laugh, Steve dropping a kiss onto his hair before Sam nods and says, “Fair enough.  Think you’ll be coming to any more?”

 

“If I’m invited,” Tony says, burrowing closer.

 

“Of course,” Steve says, lifting his hand and kissing his knuckles.

 

Bobby kicks one of Steve’s feet from where he’s lying on the floor.  “Dude, your 1600 was phenomenal today.  We have _never_ won that race before.”

 

“Really?” Steve says, looking down at him, “Good thing I’m here now, then.”

 

“Don’t be cocky,” Pietro says, pinching his thigh because it’s the easiest for him to reach, “Sam just doesn’t like to put me on 1600s anymore cos—”

 

“Cos you push yourself too hard, asshole,” Sam says, tossing Pietro a mock glare, “I’m not going to be responsible for another pulled hamstring.”

 

“Shit,” Tony says, making a face, “When’d you do that?”

 

“Freshman year, _of course_ ,” Pietro heaves a sigh, “Missed most of the spring meets, but this grandpa won’t let me forget it, though he wasn’t even there.”

 

“Near enough,” Sam says, “The amount I heard about it when I came in, I might as well have been there.  You can stick to your 400s, or you can give them back to Alex.”

 

“Man, the _fuck_ is his problem?  Ce un boule,” Pietro mutters, closing his eyes as he takes another pull on the blunt.

 

“Tu limba română?  **(You speak Romanian?)** ” Tony asks, looking over.

 

“Da—sunt din Transilvania.  Un fel de vine cu teritoriul.  Tu faci?  **(Yeah—I’m from Transylvania.  Kind of comes with the territory.  You do?)** ” he asks, sounding skeptical.

 

“Un pic, deși am înțeles mai bine decât vorbesc.  **(A little, though I understand better than I speak.)** ”

 

Nu, e—e foarte bine, de fapt.  Cum ați aflat?  **(No, it’s—it’s really good, actually.  How did you learn?)** ”

 

“Plictisit-o zi, am gândit să iau un nou limbaj, **(Bored one day, figured I’d pick up a new language.)** ” Tony says, shrugging.

 

“Taci, **(Shut up.)** ” Wanda says, “Într-adevăr?  **(Really?)** ”

 

When Tony nods, the twins let out similar laughs at the same time.  “Care este atât de foarte pretentios si foarte tare, **(That is both really pretentious and really badass.)** ” Pietro says, though he nods, “Culoare ma impresionat.  **(Color me impressed.)** ”

 

When they fall quiet, Sam lets out an obnoxious noise and says, “Okay, what just happened?”

 

“Tony speaks Romanian,” Wanda says simply, “Fairly well, too.”

 

There’s silence for a moment, and then Sam guffaws.  “Yeah, I’m not even going to touch that tonight,” he says, “Go back, what were we talking about?”

 

“Alex,” Bobby says, “You know, he wasn’t like this last year.  He likes high jump, maybe even more than sprints, so I don’t know why he’s so hung up on it.”

 

“He’s just pissed Steve’s hotter than him,” Pietro says, reaching out until he can tuck his toes under Tony’s thigh, “Isn’t that right, blondie?”

 

“Wrong person,” Tony says, reaching down to tickle his ankle.

 

“I know who you are,” Pietro mumbles, practically purring when Kitty scratches at the back of his neck, “Kitty’s playing with my hair, but my feet are cold, so I’m commandeering your warmth.  Guys, I’m wrecked, I wanna go to bed.”

 

“Aw, Pietro’s sleepy!” Wanda exclaims, starting to get up, but Pietro whines, swatting at the air as he tries to turn away.  Tony laughs and tickles his ankle again, pulling his hand away when Pietro tries to kick him.

 

Steve reaches further around Tony, tickling his knee, and Pietro starts shrieking loudly, flailing as he tries to get away from them because Kitty has started tickling behind his ears.  Eventually, he flops over onto the floor, groans, and says, “You all _suck_.”

 

Everyone bursts out laughing, and it’s only a matter of time before they’re falling into another topic, wasting the night away getting high and talking about nothing of import.  Around two, Steve stretches, kisses Tony’s ear, and says, “I wanna snuggle.”

 

“I know, there’s not enough room here,” Tony murmurs, “I want sex, too, but I’m way too tired.  Like, I’m kind of hard, but I just want to curl up with you and go to sleep.”

 

“Let’s play it by ear,” Steve says, kissing his temple before he stretches again and straightens.  “Alright, guys,” he says.

 

Pietro boos, though it’s halfhearted, and he yawns midway.

 

“Wanda’s asleep,” Sam says sleepily, “I’m almost there.”

 

“Nut uh,” Pietro mumbles, “No sleep overs.  I got in trouble last time.  Come on, get out if you’re tired.  Fuck, bed.”

 

Kitty crawls off the bed and hauls Pietro to his feet, giving him a shove toward his bed, though he spins at the last moment, fingers circling her wrist and tugging her back.  Kitty grins and goes, and Steve takes that as their cue, scooting off the bed and pulling Tony with him.  They gather Betty and Bruce, give Bobby a nudge, and wave to Sam on their way out.

 

Halfway back to their hall, Tony’s stumbling as he yawns, so Steve gets to a knee in front of him, and Tony mumbles something about Steve being his hero before he climbs on his back, and he’s out cold by the time they step into the lobby.

 

“Oh, how adorable,” Betty coos when she sees him, reaching up to kiss his temple before she and Bruce go into their room.

 

Steve takes him around the corner and down the hall, and it takes a little effort unlocking the door, but then he’s carefully setting Tony down and smiling when he stretches, cat-like, and then starts to curl up.  “Tony, clothes,” Steve says, pulling one of his legs straight.  He whines, but straightens the other, and Steve just laughs softly and undoes his jeans, pulling them down and tossing them over toward their shared hamper.  He gets him upright and then takes off his jacket, hat, and sweatshirt, leaving him in his shirt, and Tony crawls up toward their pillows as Steve undresses.  It takes longer than he’d like because he just wants to fall into bed and sleep.

 

Eventually, he curls up next to Tony, kisses him warmly, and then drifts off with him, sleeping as close to him as he can get, happy just to be near him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. I don’t have anything else written, and I’m not sure when or if I will. I’ve been warning you guys for a while now, so I hope this isn’t coming as a huge surprise to anyone. I don’t want to abandon this, but my life has been pretty chaotic lately. There’s a lot going on at work, and it’s not going to end anytime soon. Beyond that, I’m exhausted on my days off, so I either hang out with my friends or spend time catching up on my shows. So, this might be it for a while. I think we left off at a good point if that’s the case, and I’d just like to take a second to thank everyone that has stuck through this, but especially my dedicated commenters—you guys know who you are—and I promise I’ll keep thinking about this fic and pushing myself to get back to it. In the meantime, everyone should go revel in the glory that is _Guardians of the Galaxy_ , laugh and cry a lot, play with kittens, enjoy the last days of summer, listen to _a lot_ of Florence and the Machine, swim in the ocean, climb a mountain, let a tree know you love it, dance during thunderstorms, learn sign language, and do yoga every day. That’s certainly what I’m going to be doing for the next few months until it starts to get cold again. Thank you, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts! Hopefully, we’ll be in touch again soon.


	42. Chapter 42

It’s early when Tony’s phone starts buzzing, hidden somewhere in the tangle of clothes from last night.  He knows it’s his because he knows that vibration, a set of lightning quick heartbeats, and so he stretches, toes skimming Steve’s shin.  Steve mumbles and turns toward him, but Tony just pecks him on the cheek and sneaks out of bed, moving with ease.

 

He shuffles around in the clothes until he finally finds his phone, answers it by way of, “Hang on,” and then continues shuffling, dressing for a run.  When he’s finally done, he plugs in a set of wireless earphones, taps them on so the call transfers, and then he’s out, sneakers in hand.

 

“You’re up early,” Tony says as he walks down the hall.

 

“Why are you running?  It’s too cold,” Maria says softly on the other line.

 

“Because you’re an insomniac, so sometimes I am.  I’m wearing warm clothes.”

 

“That was my next question,” Maria concedes, and Tony just smiles.  He listens to her yawn, and then he knows what’s coming, so he stops to put on his sneakers.  “When you were little,” she begins, “right in the very beginning, just a wee little bambino, I would always try to get out of bed without you noticing, but you’d wake up, little fists coming undone in these chubby fingers, stretching up, and you never made a sound but this little hum, this little call for me.  I’d take you with me down into the studio, and I’d do yoga with you on the mat, and you’d watch me for a little bit until you’d drift off, and then it was into your second crib while I painted.”

 

“I think that was my first, let’s be real,” Tony says as he pushes open the door, “Holy balls, it’s cold.”

 

“It’s January, what did you expect?”

 

“For my nipples not to be headlights.”

 

“Tony,” Maria groans, exasperated.

 

“Come on, get up, do something, be a productive member of society.”  Maria guffaws, and Tony loses his start, snorting as he leans forward.  “You’re an awful human being,” he says, and Maria makes another obnoxious noise.  “Seriously, so not attractive.  I wouldn’t date you.”

 

“ _Please_ ,” Maria says, and Tony can hear her get up, “You would have tried so hard, and I would have chewed you up and spat you back out.”  Tony doesn’t laugh, though he knows Maria intends him to, and he hears her sigh as he starts his run.  “Parlo a me, bambino,” Maria says quietly.

 

“What do you think I would have been like without you?”  He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he needs to ask it.

 

“Honestly?”

 

“Please.”

 

“You’d be him.”

 

It destroys him, and that’s what hurts the most.

 

“Do you still love him?” he asks after a period of silence.

 

Maria’s response comes so fast, it feels like whiplash, “No.”

 

Tony doesn’t know why, but he almost loses his footing, and he slows a little, one hand coming up to press briefly against his chest.  “Then why are you still with him?” he asks, shaking his head to clear it and regaining his pace.

 

“Tony,” Maria sighs, “This is a conversation better had in person, not while you’re out running and we’re on the phone.”

 

“Is it because of me?”

 

“No,” Maria says, “Darling, please.”

 

“Is it because you’re afraid of him?”

 

“Tony—”

 

Tony slows until he’s still, chewing the words before he spits them out, “Why did you never have another baby?”

 

“Tony, where is this coming from?” Maria asks sharply, “We’ve talked about this, all of this.  You are—”

 

“Did you stay with him because he’d already done his damage?  Am I exactly what you expected?”

 

“Tony—”

 

“Why does everyone think I wanted any of this to happen, that I wanted to turn out this way?”

 

“Tony, you didn’t _turn out_ any way,” Maria says sternly, “You grew to be the man you were always supposed to be, and despite the speed bumps, there is nothing to be ashamed of.  You—”

 

“I am an alcoholic at nineteen, a recovering drug addict at nineteen.  My list of medical inadequacies is a mile long at nineteen.  I have been beaten, raped, drugged, abused, _gang raped_ , and I’m only—mamma, I was eighteen, and they locked the fucking door and _took turns_.”

 

Maria is silent on the other line, and Tony can’t handle her lack of response, so he sits down, burying his head in his hands, fingers linking at the nape of his neck, nails scraping along his scalp.

 

“How do I tell Steve that?  How do I tell him Alex knows, that his roommate was right fucking _there_?  How do I— _mamma_.”

 

“Tony,” Maria whispers, “Breathe, bambino.”

 

“I can’t,” he gasps, nails biting into his skin.

 

“Stop that,” Maria snaps, angry suddenly, and it jerks Tony back to the present, forces his head up.  He blinks.  “Stand up.”  He obeys.  “Breathe, and then turn around and go back to Steve.”

 

“Mamma—”

 

“Don’t make me use le mie parole.”

 

“Mamma, ho paura.  **(I’m scared.)** ”

 

“Lo so, bambino.  Tu sei più forte di questo.  Tu sei più forte di tutto ciò che questo universo malvagio ha messo davanti a voi, e voi continuerete ad essere più forte di ogni essere umano malvagio che cerca di influenzare altrimenti.  A piedi, e lasciare dietro di voi.  **(You are stronger than this.  You are stronger than everything that this wicked universe has put before you, and you will continue to be stronger than every wicked human that tries to sway you otherwise.  Walk away, and leave it behind you.)** ”

 

“Sei sicuro?  **(Are you sure?)** ”

 

“No, ma io sono tua madre, e io ho sempre ragione.  Ora vai.  **(No, but I am your mother, and I’m always right.  Now go.)** ”

 

And he does.  Maria talks until he starts to respond, and they talk about this summer, about Cher and the beach house in Italy, and then, when Tony gets back to the room, he whispers his love, kicks off his sneakers, and climbs back into bed with Steve.

 

——

 

When Steve wakes later that day, stretching languidly, Tony is far from him, curled up on the edge of the bed, sheets bunched in his fist and drawn up under his chin.  He frowns and reaches out a hand to run it along his back under the blankets, but Tony doesn’t move.

 

“Tony,” he murmurs sleepily, rubbing his knuckles against the ridges of his spine, “You awake?”

 

Still, he doesn’t move, and so Steve takes his hand back, stretches out his back and then pushes up onto an elbow, leaning over so he can see Tony’s face, which is free of a furrowed brow despite looking exhausted.

 

Shrugging, he leaves him after dropping a kiss onto his shoulder, going to shower.  When he gets back, Tony still isn’t out of bed, but he’s migrated to the other side of the bed, back turned to Steve now.  “You gonna get up anytime soon?” he asks as he comes back in, towel looped around his waist.

 

Tony doesn’t respond, and Steve sighs, dropping his towel as he walks over.  He crawls in behind him, scattering kisses along his neck and shoulders as he goes.  “Tony,” he whispers, moving up to his ear, “Wake up.”

 

“I am,” Tony mumbles, shrugging him off.

 

Steve leans back onto one of his heels, frowning.  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

 

When Tony remains silent, Steve sighs again and reaches up to scrub a hand through his wet hair.  “Tony, it’s early,” he says, “Can we just cut the crap and get to the root of it?  What’s up?”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony mutters, pulling the blankets tighter around him.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Just leave me alone,” Tony says before the blankets go over his head.

 

“”Fine,” Steve snaps, getting up, “I’m not dealing with this today.  I’m fucking tired, Tony, and I can’t keep up with the mood swings.”

 

He expects Tony to throw the blankets off in a fit of rage and come storming over to him, but he just remains there, a lump under his sheets.  Steve stares at him for a few seconds longer before going to dress, and that’s when he notices Tony’s running shoes out.  “Did you go for a run this morning?” he asks.

 

Silence emanates from the bed.

 

“Really?” Steve says, yanking on his jacket.

 

“Jesus _fuck_ , Steve,” Tony finally breaks, drawing his knees to his chest, “Stop fucking talking to me.”

 

Steve swallows down his rising anger, toes on his shoes, and leaves, slamming the door behind him.  When he arrives at Betty and Bruce’s room, he knocks on their door and waits patiently.  Bruce opens the door, one arm inside his jacket.  “Hey killer,” he says, stepping out of the room.

 

Betty hurries to follow, and they head off to brunch, Bruce and Betty talking animatedly until they realize Steve isn’t responding, and then Betty asks, “Is everything okay?”

 

“Tony’s being an ass,” he says.

 

“He’s probably just hungover,” Bruce says, shrugging.

 

“He barely drank last night,” Steve says, “He wouldn’t get out of bed, and when I tried to ask what was wrong, he flipped out at me.  Whatever, I’ve got too much else to worry about right now, I don’t need this shit from him.”

 

Betty frowns, trying to think back on the party last night, curious if something happened.  “Anything happen with Alex?” she asks as they reach the student center.

 

“Barely,” Steve says, “And if he’s pissed about that, then he needs to get over it.  There’s nothing going on with Alex and me, and he knows that.”

 

“Maybe Alex makes him nervous,” Bruce suggests, “Tony’s been known to get jealous.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, “I know all about that.”

 

And then he’s scanning into the dining hall and walking away from them, so they drop it.  He’s sour for the rest of brunch until Betty tells him she’s sick of his attitude and she throws a slice of tomato at him, and then he shakes it off.  He’s in a better mood by the time they’re heading back, and he promises to stop by later to visit before heading around the corner to his room.

 

When he opens the door, his good mood sinks because Tony is still in bed, still curled up facing the wall.  “Tony,” he says cautiously, coming over.  He kicks off his shoes before climbing into bed, leaning up to draw the curtains.  Tony groans and huddles further under the blankets, so Steve slips under them and pulls Tony toward him.  “Are you hungover?” he asks even though he knows he isn’t.

 

“No,” Tony mumbles, trying to push away from him.

 

“Stop it,” Steve says, tightening his hold, “What’s going on?”

 

“Go away,” Tony says, pushing harder, but Steve won’t let go, and so he just succumbs, body going limp again.

 

“Tony—”

 

“I don’t want to be near you.”

 

“Stop being an asshole.  Did something happen?  Did you talk to your dad while you were out running or something?”

 

“Do you know what he said when I told him I’d been raped in high school?” Tony says quietly, “He told me to stop lying.”

 

Steve doesn’t breathe.

 

“There is nothing left he can say that will hurt me.”

 

“Then what the hell is going on?” Steve demands, “Why won’t you talk to me?”

 

“You have no idea what he did to me,” Tony says, but his voice is quieter, and Steve feels like he’s losing him.

 

“Who?”  When he doesn’t respond, Steve presses the issue, squeezing Tony.  “Who did what to you?”

 

“I thought it was you until they held me down.”

 

Steve tries desperately to unravel what he’s just said, prying at Tony, but he won’t say another word, just lies there motionless, and finally, he gives up, getting out of bed and going to his desk to do homework.  He expects, at some point, that Tony will finally snap out of it, that he’ll roll over and whine about how hungry he is, but the only time he moves is around three o’clock to go to the bathroom, and then it’s back in bed.

 

It carries on into Monday.

 

Steve is nervous about leaving him, but he can’t convince Tony to get out of bed and go to class, and he can’t afford to miss his first weeks of class, and so he leaves for his first class.  It’s awful, trying to concentrate, but he manages to get through his French class, though when they’re dismissed, he has to force himself not to run back to the room.

 

Tony is still lying in the same exact position he left him in that morning, and so Steve turns right around and goes down the hall to the super couple’s room.  Betty calls for him to enter, and he comes in quickly, nerves making his fingers tremble a little.

 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” he admits out loud, and they both look over at him, Betty from her desk and Bruce from his bed, both at their laptops.

 

“Is he still in bed?” Betty asks.

 

“Is he alive?” comes Bruce’s terrifying question.

 

“What?” Steve says, already backing out of the room.

 

“He’s been diagnosed with severe depression, Steve,” Bruce says, and then Steve is running.

 

Tony’s alive, though asleep when he finds him, and he sits next to him for a few moments before he hears his door open, admitting Bruce and Betty.  “Maybe we should call Maria,” Bruce says, frowning, “She might know what’s going on.”

 

“I hate worrying her,” Betty says, “I feel like that’s all she does.”

 

“What other choice do we have?” Bruce argues, “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

 

“I mean, if you follow the technical definition, this looks like a low.”

 

Bruce face falls, and he looks over at Tony abruptly.  “Oh my god,” he says, “How have we never seen it?”

 

“You have,” Betty says, confused.

 

“Never here,” Bruce says quietly, “Never like this.  It’s never been this bad.”

 

“What?” Steve exclaims, staring between them, “What’s going on?”

 

“People diagnosed with bipolar disorder have extreme highs and lows, Steve,” Betty says, “I’ve seen Tony through plenty of highs, even a low once, but never like this.”

 

Steve’s already reaching for his phone.  Maria answers cautiously, “Steve?  Is everything alright?”

 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Tony,” he says and immediately feels bad as he hears her hurrying to collect herself.  “Not like that,” he quickly stops her, “He won’t get out of bed.”

 

“Oh,” Maria says softly, “That’s—really?  Were there any triggers?”

 

Steve feels like she’s speaking in a different language, but he says, “No.  Not that I can think of.”

 

“How long has he been like that?”

 

“Since yesterday morning.  I let it go, thought he was just tired, but it’s noon, and he still hasn’t gotten up.”

 

“Steve,” Maria says, though it’s muffled like she’s covering the speaker, “Tony won’t get out of bed.”  There’s a distant response, and Maria is quick, “No, he’ll be fine.  Go to work.  You’re already late.”

 

“Maria,” Steve hears clearly, and then Maria is back to him.

 

“Howard’s going to stop by,” she says, and her voice doesn’t sound tight like Steve expects it to, “He should be there in two hours.  Will you be around?”

 

“No, I have class, but Betty will be,” he says as Betty points to herself, “Maria, do you—do you think that’s a good idea?”

 

Maria is quiet for a moment, and then she says, “He knows, intimately, what Tony is going through.  Please let me know if there’s any progress.”

 

And then she hangs up.  Steve can’t recall the last time she was so short with him, and he knows he was out of bounds asking her that, but he can’t fathom that Howard coming could be a good thing for Tony.

 

“What do I do for him?” Steve asks, silence following.

 

——

 

Betty is honestly shocked when Tony’s phone rings and she sees that it’s Howard calling.  She goes to let him in, taking him down the hall and around the corner to Tony’s room.  “Do you need anything?” she asks as she lets him in.

 

“No, thank you,” Howard says, stepping past her in his handsome suit.

 

Betty follows him in anyway, just to be careful, and she watches as he crosses the room in quiet, quick steps.  He looks so much like Tony, but he’s nothing alike him, with his neat tie and styled hair, with his straight shoulders and professional demeanor, but then he pauses at the side of the bed before he sits, and she sees so much of Tony in him.  He looks weary suddenly as he reaches out a tentative hand, backs of his fingers skimming along Tony’s jaw.

 

“Tony,” he whispers, “Wake up.”

 

“No,” Tony mutters.

 

“Enough of this.  Get up,” Howard says sternly, “Weakness is not an option.”  Betty starts to interrupt him, appalled, when he continues, “I need you to be strong for me, Anthony.”

 

“Dad?” Tony asks blearily, slowly turning onto his back.

 

“There you are,” Howard says softly, fingers brushing up to thread through his hair, smoothing it back, “It’s time to get up now.”

 

“No,” Tony says, starting to turn onto his side again, but Howard lays a hand against his chest, fingers spreading, holding him there.

 

“You don’t have a choice,” Howard says, and it ignites a small flame in Tony’s eyes, “Get up, _now_.”

 

“I—”

 

“I will not tolerate disobedience,” Howard says sharply, and Betty folds her arms across her chest, glaring at him.  When Tony doesn’t move, Howard takes his hand back and snaps, “On your feet.  Get out of this bed, or I will force you out.”

 

Tony moves sluggishly, throwing the blankets off of him and slipping around Howard, who stands as soon as he does.  Tony starts to walk away, but he stumbles, and Howard quickly catches him, one arm circling his waist.  “Easy now,” he whispers, “Slowly.  Strength, Tony.”

 

“It wants to eat me alive,” he says, his knees shaking, “It’s inside me.  I can feel it.”

 

“Ignore it,” Howard says, gripping Tony’s elbow as he starts to sag, “Tony, be strong.  You can fight this.”

 

“There were so many of them,” he gasps, and then he’s falling, Howard holding him up even as he goes with him, kneeling and cradling Tony against him.

 

“Shut the door,” Howard says quickly, and Betty does as he asks if only because his frown looks strange.  “Anthony,” he says, pushing Tony’s hair back from his forehead, “What are you talking about?”

 

“They took turns,” he mumbles, “I thought it was Steve at first, but then they held me down.”

 

Howard just blinks.  Betty stares on, but she can’t stop the nagging feeling that he’s told her this before, that she remembers him saying something so similar, though she can’t think of why she wouldn’t remember it clearly.  And then, she looks away, trying to focus, and her gaze lands on the closet, where her and Tony used to get high, and she remembers it immediately.

 

“He _knows_ ,” Tony says, his voice breaking a little, “He fucking knows, knows what—what they did.”

 

“What did they do, Tony?” Howard asks, “Who knows?”

 

“Alex,” he lets out on an exhale, “Alex knows they drugged me, knows they fucked me, knows I have nightmares about it.  Dad, I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop it,” his whole body is trembling now, and he lifts a hand to fist in Howard’s jacket, holding onto him, “They—they hit me.  I couldn’t feel my legs.  They held me down.  There were so many of them.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“It hurt so much,” he says before he breaks, and Howard winds his arms around him, one hand curling around his head, holding him close.

 

He breathes Tony’s name and drops his own head down, hides his fear in Tony’s mess of hair.  It’s long moments before Howard recomposes himself, lifts his head and asks Betty, “Do you know an Alex?”

 

“He runs track with Steve,” she says, disbelieving, “He likes Steve, but I never—I never thought he could do something like this, could still go after him knowing what his friends did.”

 

Howard is silent for a moment before he shifts his grip, gathering Tony in his arms.  “When was the last time you showered?” he asks as he stands, Tony curled in against him.

 

Tony just groans, so Howard goes to set him back on the bed before he takes off his jacket and starts gathering Tony’s things for a shower.  Betty watches on, amazed, and then Howard’s commanding Tony to his feet, and she watches them leave, unsure of what to make of this, of everything.

 

She leaves, then, hoping that Bruce will be back soon so that she can figure this out.

 

 

——

 

Steve doesn’t know what to expect when he gets back from class, but Howard sitting at Tony’s desk is certainly not it.  Kesha is playing softly in the background, and Tony is sitting cross-legged on his yoga mat, looking exhausted.

 

“Get up,” Howard is saying as he opens the door.

 

“Fuck you,” Tony mutters, not lifting his head.

 

“Anthony,” Howard snaps, not looking back at him, “Get up.”

 

“Or what?” Tony spits, “What are you going to do— _belt me_?”

 

“Maybe,” Howard says, and it sounds like a challenge.  He pushes out of the chair easily, stalks across the room, and grabs onto one of Tony’s arms, hauling him to his feet.  “Do I have to?” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

 

“Don’t touch me,” Tony says, looking away and ripping out of Howard’s touch.

 

“Tony,” Howard says, and his voice is different now, cautious.

 

Steve shuts the door, and Tony flinches, his breath hitching.  “Please,” he whispers, “Don’t hurt me.”

 

Howard sighs and closes the distance between them, lifting a hand to curl around Tony’s jaw, tilting his head up.  “You’re safe,” he says, and Tony shakes his head.

 

“Dad,” he mumbles, and Howard draws him into his arms.

 

Steve just stares, mouth open in shock.

 

“Can I just go to bed?” he asks, voice muffled against Howard’s chest, arms limp by his sides as Howard rubs small circles in his back.

 

“Oh no,” Howard says, something like amusement in his voice, “This is payback for every time you pulled me out from under when you were little.”

 

Tony shifts until he can step away, and then he takes a deep breath and stretches up, swan diving after.  Howard leaves him, going back to his desk, and so Steve slowly comes in, setting his things down.

 

“Stephen,” Howard says in greeting, “How were your classes?”

 

“Engaging,” Steve says distractedly, “Is everything okay?”

 

“He’ll be fine,” Howard says, “He just needs a little help.”  Howard pauses with his fingers over the keyboard of Tony’s laptop and turns.  “I don’t understand,” he admits, looking up at Steve, who sits, eyebrows going up.  “I don’t understand why you’re still here,” he continues.

 

Steve looks over at Tony instinctively, trying to find the answer to the question he asks himself too often.  “Don’t stay because you feel like you need to fix him, because you feel like you’ve failed him.  Don’t stay because you’re used to it, because you can handle it.  I wish someone had told my wife that years ago.  I wish she’d gotten away.”

 

“I’m not Maria,” Steve says, smiling as Tony makes a face at him before he goes upside down, “And he’s not you.”  Steve turns his gaze to Howard, shrugging, “Tony might be your fault, but he’s not you, and I love him.  I’m still here because I want to be.”

 

“Good answer,” Howard says, turning back to Tony’s laptop, “Try to remember that.”

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon like that.  Steve goes to his last class, and when he gets back, Howard is still working diligently on Tony’s laptop.  Tony is on their bed, a book in his hands, and he looks a little more awake, a little more himself when Steve gets back from class.  “Hey,” he says as he crosses the room, dropping his backpack on the way.

 

Tony actually responds, dog earing his page and tilting his head up in greeting.  Steve kisses him softly, quickly, before he’s sitting at his feet.  “How are you feeling?” he asks, circling Tony’s ankle with his fingers, thumb rubbing over the bone there.

 

“Okay,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder.

 

“If you’re here,” Howard says, saving his work, “I’ll be taking my leave.”  He pushes back Tony’s chair and turns, facing them.  “Stephen,” he begins, and Tony opens his book again, “He’s taken a dose of Abilify to help, but he’s still going to be unlike himself.  Try to keep him active, doing yoga, going to class, interacting.  It’ll pass with time, but he needs encouragement.  Might I speak with you in private for a moment?” he adds as he stands, slipping on his suit jacket.

 

“Dad, no,” Tony says, looking up suddenly, “Just leave it alone.”

 

“Be quiet, Anthony.  This is not up for discussion.”  Tony looks down, frowning at his book, and then Howard surprises him by leaning over and pressing a kiss to his hair.  “If you need anything, call me,” Howard whispers, “You’ll be okay.”

 

When Howard straightens, Tony looks back up at him, nodding, and then Howard’s turning away, Steve following him uncertainly.  He doesn’t speak until they’ve reached the small foyer, the front door closed against the cold.  Howard settles into his overcoat, turns to Steve, and lets out a hard exhale.  “You know that Anthony has been attacked several times, raped even?” Howard asks.

 

“I thought you didn’t believe him,” Steve says harshly, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“For once in your privileged life, will you shut your mouth and understand that there are things that you will never understand?” Howard says calmly, though his words rock Steve like he’s been physically slapped, “I have made many mistakes, yes, and I will never have the relationship with my son that I wanted, but your attitude is not helping the situation.  I am telling you this because I am concerned about Tony’s well-being in such close proximity to your friends.”

 

“Bruce and Betty—”

 

“ _Your_ friends, not the ones you share.  I don’t know his last name, but someone called Alex—”  And then Steve’s ears are ringing.  He can’t catch his breath, can only nod when Howard finishes and leaves him standing there in the foyer like he hasn’t just unraveled everything.

 

He starts walking slowly, disjointed, and then he’s running as he comes around the corner, his breath rushing out of him in a hard, angry gasp.  When he throws open the door, he almost falls apart because Tony is sitting on the bed, knees drawn to his chest, trying desperately not to cry.  “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice hitching up and breaking as he sees Steve, “I’m so sorry.”

 

Steve is speechless, just shaking his head as he comes across the room, tears welling in his eyes and spilling out as he folds Tony away in his arms and buries his face in his neck.  “Why did you never tell me?” he mumbles, holding onto him tightly.

 

“He’s your _friend_ ,” Tony says, shaking, “I wanted you to have your own friends, and I didn’t realize it was his friend until I saw him with Joshua one day, one of the guys that—that— _fuck_ , Steve.”

 

“I’ll kill him,” Steve says, and Tony pushes away from him, shaking his head as he wipes at his face.

 

“Don’t do anything,” he pleads, exhausted again, “Please.  I’m so tired.  I hate thinking about it.  I just want to forget it ever happened.”

 

“I can’t be his friend,” Steve says, disgusted, “I can’t even look at him.  He’s been so awful to you, and all this time, he knew what his friends had done.  I’m so sorry, Tony.”

 

“Can you just—just hold me?  Please,” he says, already moving to lie down.

 

“Okay,” Steve exhales, following suit.  He lets Tony curl into him, and he wraps his arms around him, closing his eyes and trying to banish the awful images stampeding through his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi?
> 
> My life has been hell lately, but _damn_ , this felt good. It’s gotten to the point where I’m looking for another job. I need to get out of there, that place is so fucking corrupt, it’s awful. I don’t want to be around any of them anymore, and I spend all of my free time escaping from it. I’ve been without a laptop for about three weeks, but I finally have one again, a brand new one, too. Long story short, my old one crapped out, they couldn’t fix it, so Geek Squad gave me a credit, which means I got a $1000 laptop for $200. I’m excited. It’s taken some getting used to, but I’m starting to like it.
> 
> And then, last night, Erin and I skyped for, like, three and a half hours? Something like that? More like four? It was crazy, but we were planning out this novel we’re collaborating on, which I’m so stoked about, I can’t wait until it begins. And then, well, she was trying to convince me to write this Marauders fic I’ve been thinking about, and I did start it, I wrote a little bit, and then I put on Kesha, and I honestly don’t remember opening this file, but suddenly I was writing about our boys.
> 
> I really hope that I _keep_ writing, and I talked it over with Erin, trying to decide if I should post this now or wait until I’m sure I’m still on board with this, write a few more chapters, but I really wanted to surprise you guys, give you something I’ve been working on through the night. I’ve also got closing shifts for the next two weeks—thanks, Brian, kind of sucks that I don’t get to see my family for two weeks—so I can stay up late and sleep in. And, the really awesome part, I’m going up to Maine to see Erin for six days in March, so I’ll definitely be doing a ton of writing while I’m there because she just brings out evil things in me.
> 
> Okay, I’m going to stop. I was always bad at making these brief, but hi! I hope this is okay, I really hope you guys see this and read it and like it, and oh gosh, I’m so nervous.
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!
> 
> PS, in case any of you were wondering, yes, I did do every single thing I told you guys to do while I was gone, and a whole lot more. It's been a wild five months, in the best way possible.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes—
> 
> i. This is a yoga note! The acroyoga scene between Tony, Betty, and Bruce was largely inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wjj5_837m3M) video, even though I improvised on it a lot. I’ve never considered acroyoga with three people before, but damn, that was fun to write.

It’s hard.

 

Steve never wants to admit that, but he can’t help it sometimes.  Tony is _exhausting_.

 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying here looking at him, but he hasn’t been able to fall asleep, hasn’t been able to quiet his mind long enough to close his eyes.  Every time he does, all he can see is Tony struggling, face down, on a bed; all he can hear is his voice, cracked and muffled, screaming for help; all he can feel is a weight on his chest, snatching out his breaths until he wants to push Tony away and _run_.

 

How has he found himself here?  How has this become the life he’s accepted?  He thinks about what Howard said, how he’d wished Maria had been able to get away.  He wonders if it’s too late for him, if he should even consider running.  So much of him wants to stay, wants to curl up behind Tony, wants to hold him tight and banish all his demons, but there’s this aching, dark spot on his soul that is begging him to inhale, step back, and exhale, see Tony for what he really is—parasitic.  He’s latched on, drained the life right out of Steve, and he’s starting to think it might be unhealthy.

 

He doesn’t know how to live like this.

 

Steve looks down, checks that Tony is definitely asleep, and then he extracts himself from around him, under him, inside him, and plants his feet firmly on the ground.

 

This is not the end of them, but Steve feels like they may be heading toward the beginning of that story.

 

——

 

When Tony wakes, his vision is blurry, his mind sluggish, and his limbs heavy.  He feels like he’s been run over by a train, strapped to the tracks and left out to bruise.  His self aches, and he doesn’t know how to shake it off but to stretch his toes, fingers reaching for the opposite end of the world.

 

His body feels loose when he comes back together again, scrubs at his face, and then slowly sits up, looking around.

 

It’s too fucking dark.

 

Tony throws the blankets off of him, clambers to his feet, and yanks open the curtains.  He goes over to the other window, throws those curtains open, as well, and then goes over to his desk, tugging open his drug drawer.  Everything not prescribed goes, every secret he can feel leaking through his blood.  He sets a fire in his trashcan and digs out the clothes he was wearing when Alex’s friends raped him, when Luke beat him, when every person that has ever dragged their hands across his body, and he grins as it burns.

 

He waits until the fire is spitting, embers dying, and then he puts it out, carries it out to the dumpster in the back, and then he goes to take a shower, washing away the filth of his body.  He casts the filth out of his mind after with a long, two-hour journey of yoga and meditation, and then he rolls his shoulders back, pops his spine, and lifts onto his feet.  It’s this smooth, graceful transition from reaching for the ceiling to pressing his hands against the floor, weight shifting into the top of his palms and radiating down to his fingers before he slowly brings his legs up, held together and moving as one until his toes are reaching for the ceiling.  He does a few variations, legs coming out into a split that’s not nearly as wide as he’d like it, back behind him toward his head, rotating his gaze further up until his toes just barely grab at his hair, and then back in to tuck his knees against his stomach, roll, and slowly drop into an arm balance.  When he springs out into a plank and then rolls out into cobra, he shouts, his insides jumping.

 

On his feet again, Tony knows, with certainty, this is the end of his dark story.

 

He takes a few deep breaths, and then goes to dress, tugging on a pair of tight jeans severely ripped in several spots, an old Led Zeppelin shirt that he stole from his mom, and he grabs his Converse and jacket before heading down the hall in search of Bruce and Betty.

 

When he knocks on the door, Betty rushes to open it, and she looks so relieved to see him that Tony smiles widely, and then she’s launching herself at him.  Tony cackles as he staggers backward, dropping his shoes as he catches her, arms wrapping tightly around her.  He breathes her in, and Betty just rambles nonsense at him, clinging to him until Bruce is appearing in the doorway, smiling softly as he leans against it.

 

Betty finally drops down, and Tony lets out this strangled breath before taking one long stride so that he’s nearly pressed against Bruce, and then he kisses him, this rush of something trampling through him and infecting Bruce so that his hands are suddenly against Tony’s back, holding him there.  Tony threads his fingers through Bruce’s hair after a few amazing moments and tugs him back, separating them.  “Woah,” Betty says, teeth scraping over her bottom lip.

 

“I love you, man,” Tony says, kissing him lightly again before stepping back fully and reaching down for his shoes.  He looks over at Betty, and then back at Bruce before he says, “Up for some acro love?”

 

“Yes!” Betty exclaims, hurrying past him to go find shoes.

 

Even though there’s snow, and it’s absolutely frigid out, they head out bundled up, looking for a good place.  They eventually settle on the amphitheater, which is at the bottom of a hill, a small stage open to the elements, but covered in snow, and they start stretching out their bodies, jumping up and down to warm up their limbs.

 

Tony clears an area of snow, Bruce pulls up his hood, and Betty starts doing backbend wheels.  Tony doesn’t know what’s happening until Bruce starts to slowly rise his legs, back stretched out on the ground, and then Betty’s jogging toward him, and Tony watches in awe as she jumps and Bruce catches her, feet snug against her hips.

 

He’s helped with this routine before, and it’s been a work in progress for a long time, so when Bruce hums softly, Tony comes over, feet settling on either side of his head as Betty’s body lengthens, and then Bruce’s knees are coming in toward his chest, Tony’s watching Betty carefully, and she’s being thrown gently into the air.  Tony catches her, fingers lacing quickly with hers as Betty swings her legs up for momentum, and Tony has to step back one foot, gaining more power in his stance so he doesn’t drop her.  Her gaze meets his, and she’s beaming as she feels herself steady, feet reaching high.

 

Bruce’s legs come back, hands pressing against his lower back, arms supporting him as he reaches up into a shoulder stand, and Betty inhales very slowly as Tony readies himself, and then her legs are coming out into a split, and Tony has to remind himself to breathe or he’ll lose his balance.  He hollows his back, Betty swaying back until she leans forward, and she comes swinging back down, Bruce catching her thighs even as he lets himself back down, fingers curling around her feet as he shifts one foot at a time until she’s in chair.

 

And then Bruce flips her like she’s a feather, body twisting between his legs until his feet are sliding along her front, the front of his toes brushing her stomach as their hands tangle together, and he raises her up even as her legs start to unfold, one coming into a bend, and Tony squats enough that Betty’s feet end up on his shoulders, a bridge between he and Bruce.  Betty reaches one hand back, holding onto Tony’s waist, Bruce’s hand curling around her shoulder, and then the other moves, and her feet are pressing against Tony’s head, his hands holding her steady around her waist.

 

She starts to unfold, and Tony has to work hard to hold his balance and maintain hers as she walks down his body, and he sees it happen a heartbeat before it does.  Bruce releases one of her shoulders for a foot, and Betty rolls upright, Tony sliding into warrior two as he catches her, hands bracing against hers.  And then Bruce throws her, straight up, Betty spinning once, quickly, delicately, before her legs snap out, and Tony braces himself, ready to catch her, but Bruce’s feet are waiting for her, hit her inner thighs a little hard so that Betty reaches out.  Tony grabs one of her hands and pushes the other away, helping her piston backward as her legs curl around, body bending as she reaches behind her, and this is the part that they’ve always stopped at.  Granted, they’ve tried to continue several times, and even once landed the move, but it’s been a while.

 

Tony shakes that thought from his head, comes forward until he can hold tightly to Betty’s hands, and then he curls his feet around Bruce’s shoulders, toes pressing in against the muscle there before Betty starts to unfold, driven by the pull of Tony as he leans away.  Bruce’s feet start moving, repositioning, as Betty slides away from him, pulling Tony with her as she comes back into chair, and Bruce rubs a thumb against Tony’s ankle.

 

Bruce helps him step up onto one of his hands, breathes slowly, and steps up onto the other on his own, and then Betty is the anchor.  She holds tightly to Bruce’s calves with her legs, recognizes the fear in Tony’s brown eyes, and sticks her tongue out at him.  Tony laughs abruptly, and though he’s still nervous, he lets it drain out of him as he switches his grip to Betty’s shoulders and holds.  She reaches her fingers, readying, and then Bruce is grunting before he throws Tony, harder than he does with Betty, accounting for the extra muscle mass.

 

Tony springs into the air, breathing with his abdomen as Betty’s hands guide him, and he feels like he’s flying, held suspended in the air, two bodies from the ground.  And then, “Holy fuck, you two are heavy.”

 

Betty loses it, giggling, and Tony wobbles, forcing his body backward because he knows Betty will go forward.  His body tries to twist, but he keeps himself vertical, lets himself fall, ignoring his instincts, and he lands on his feet, knees braced for the impact.  Betty topples over, unbalanced, and Bruce catches her shoulders as she falls in a wide plank.

 

She rolls off of Bruce, stretches her back into a light bend, before she sits and says to Tony, “Ever tried handstand pushups?”

 

“I will _own you_ ,” Tony says, already getting to his feet.

 

He doesn’t.  Betty gets five while Tony gets three, and then he’s throwing snow at her, so they spend the next twenty minutes running around tackling each other into the snow until Bruce shoves some down the back of Tony’s shirt, and he shrieks, running in circles as he tries to shake it out.

 

When all is said and done, they go inside to the snack bar, get hot chocolate to go, and Tony finally asks, “Have you guys seen Steve lately?  I think he needs space, which I totally get, but—” he trails off, shrugging.

 

That becomes the question of the week.

 

He sees him in fleeting moments—coming in at night and refusing to answer where he’s been, instead walking out again to shower, only returning to dress for the day and gather his things; leaving the dining hall as Tony’s going in; during their shared French class, which Tony takes care not to bother Steve; until, finally, it’s Thursday.

 

Tony’s just leaving his philosophy class when his phone buzzes, and he smiles when he sees Maria’s name.  “Ciao bella,” he answers, and he can nearly feel Maria’s smile.

 

“Ciao bambino,” she responds happily, “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

 

“Early.  I don’t think he wants me here.”

 

“Tony,” Maria sighs, “What’s going on?”

 

“I don’t know, mamma,” Tony admits, shifting his backpack higher on his shoulders as he steps out into the cold, “I’m trying to give him space, but I’m not sure if that’s good anymore.  I’m not sure if maybe I should be trying to get him to talk to me again.”

 

“Talk to him tonight,” Maria encourages, “This isn’t fair to either of you.”

 

“Can you do me a favor?” Tony asks as he crosses the street to the dorm hall.

 

“Of course, darling.”

 

“Convince dad to stay home for the weekend, and let’s go hiking.”

 

Maria pauses for a moment before she says, “I’ll start deciding which summits,” and the rest of their conversation is brief before Tony’s hanging up and opening his door.

 

Steve is there, which is shocking in and of itself, and Tony looks him over, curled over his desk, sketching.

 

“Hey,” Tony says softly, coming over to drop his backpack by the bed.

 

Steve doesn’t respond at first, but Tony can see the tension in his shoulders as he sits on their bed, crossing his legs beneath him.  The silence feels like it’s going to tear him apart inside, but he forces himself to wait until Steve finally turns to face him, and the last thing he ever expected to hear is, “I need a break.”

 

He feels like his ears are full of water when he asks, “From?”

 

“God,” Steve says, lifting a hand to rub at his face, trying to hide, and Tony feels his throat closing.  “You,” Steve finally says, “I need a break from you.”

 

For a full seven seconds, Tony lets the oncoming panic attack overwhelm him like a tidal wave, and then he spends his next seven seconds focusing all of his bad energy through his center wind tunnel, draws good energy from each of his chakras, and then he stands up and says, “I’m going hiking this weekend with my parents.  I won’t be back until Monday morning.  Is that enough?”

 

“Enough?” Steve repeats, looking at Tony’s back.

 

“Enough time away from me?” Tony asks, opening one of his drawers, “Is that enough time for you to figure out if you can settle this low?”

 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, and he feels like he should have known this was how it was going to play out, being blamed for something.

 

“Don’t _Tony_ me,” Tony spits, turning sharply to face him, “You knew what I was.”

 

“What you _are_ , Tony, is a train wreck,” Steve says angrily.

 

Tony guffaws, and then he gets in Steve’s face, pitches his voice low, trembling with fury, “I was a train wreck when you met me.  I was coming off one high to jump onto the next.  I fucked anything that walked.  I abused your uncertainty about your sexuality.  I used you, just like every other person in my life had done to me.  When you fell in love with me, I was sane, for the first time in years.  _I_ banished the filth from my life.  If you ever try to take that away from me again, I will _disappear_.  _I_ tried to kill myself.  The bastards bullying and raping me did not try to kill me.  _I_ kept going back to Luke.  I could have gotten away if I wanted to.  _I_ put myself in every single situation.  It is my fault that I am the way I am.  Yes, I blame those that have made me a victim, that have stolen from me, but I will never take the blame off myself for snorting coke or taking pills or whatever the fuck I was trying to run away from.  But _I_ found my own light again.  You may have helped, but don’t you dare imply that it is because of you that I found sanity.  If you want a fucking break from me, then be honest with me.  Tell me that I am too much for you to handle, but don’t say that I’m a train wreck when I am so clearly not.  I was a train wreck when you wanted to fuck me.  What do you want now?”

 

“To love you,” Steve admits.

 

“Exactly.  Then what do you need?”

 

“It’s too much for me,” Steve says, “I can’t do it.”

 

“Permanently?” Tony asks, and the panic attack is starting to leak back in.

 

“No,” Steve says, shaking his head, “I just—I need some time by myself.  I need—”

 

“If you’re not ready for this, you never will be,” Tony says, “But don’t make me a victim of your uncertainty again.  I’m done, Steve.  I’m done waiting for you to figure it out.”

 

“I’m done wondering if you’re going to be alive or not every other day,” Steve says in return, his anger returning, “I’m done watching what you drink and trying to remember if I saw you take anything.  I’m done with these fucking highs and lows.  I’m done with the drama.”

 

“Tell me the last time you saw me do something reckless,” Tony says, and Steve can’t answer.  After a few moments of silence, Tony continues, “The highs and the lows are part of the package deal.  I am bipolar, Steve.  My father is, and fuck if everything wrong with that man wasn’t passed down to me, but I am also my mother’s son, and I will fight every gene of his with her strength that I can.  You can’t be done with the highs and the lows.  You take me as I am, or not at all.”

 

“I don’t know who I am anymore.”

 

“You’re confused,” Tony says, refusing to soften his tone, “But, you know what, Steve—” he waits for Steve to meet his gaze before he continues, “—I’m not, and I can’t keep waiting.  I’ll see you Monday morning.  Please don’t contact me in the meantime.”

 

And though it takes all of his willpower, Tony walks out the door.

 

——

 

Tony wakes up before Betty and Bruce.  He checks his watch, but it’s still early, and so he stretches carefully, and then gets up, kissing each of them on the forehead before he crawls over Bruce.  He pulls on his jeans and sweatshirt, and then he heads out, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

When he arrives in his room, Steve is sitting with his back to the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, in Tony’s favorite pair of loose grey sweats.  “I just need to pack, and then I’ll be gone,” he says, avoiding Steve’s gaze as he heads for his dresser.

 

“Can we talk about this?” Steve asks, and Tony looks over as the bed creaks, trying not to swear at him when Steve pulls his travel backpack out from under the bed.

 

“Talk about what?” Tony asks, throwing clothes haphazardly on the floor.

 

“I don’t want to break up,” Steve says, “Unless that’s what last night was, but I kept thinking it over and over, and that can’t have been it.  We’ve been through too much to call it quits.”

 

“That’s why you’re questioning it,” Tony sighs, starting to throw clothes at Steve so he’ll pack for him, “We’ve been through too much.”

 

“You’re exhausting,” Steve says out loud.  He says it, out loud for everyone to hear, and he feels like something inside of him cracks.

 

“I know,” Tony says simply, “But you also know, so that’s not what this is about.”

 

He folds his arms across his chest and turns to Steve, and Steve feels it all melt.  He still feels like he may need a breath, like he needs a second away, or maybe it’s just that he needs less chaos, that he feels too amped up, that everything is too loud suddenly.  But seeing Tony, really seeing him right now, tired in the early morning light, his hair tousled from sleep, vulnerable and _subtle_ , and he knows, with certainty, this is his story.

 

“I’m tired,” Steve says.

 

“Of me?”  Tony just stares at him.

 

Steve can’t answer that even though he knows the answer is no, and so he starts folding the clothes that Tony threw at him.  They pack in silence until Tony’s done, and then Steve is left just sitting there as Tony pulls on his jacket and sighs.  “Like I said, I’ll be back Monday morning,” Tony says, coming over to take his backpack.  He shoulders it, leans down, and whispers, “I know why you’re tired, and I’m going to understand for right now, but when I come back, I can’t do this waiting game.  If this is too much, you need to tell me.  Until then—” he kisses Steve, soft and slow, until he feels like Steve might ask for more, and then he breaks away and continues, “—I love you.”

 

“I love you,” Steve says, and Tony smiles.

  
“I know,” he says, and then he’s gone.

 

When the door shuts, Steve feels something opening wide in his chest, something like ice dripping through him, and he scoots back across their shared bed, presses his back against the wall, and pulls his knees against his chest, trying to breathe.  His heart is too heavy in his chest, pressing too hard against his ribs, and, from somewhere deep inside him, this terrified noise staggers out of him as he hides his face in his thighs.  He wonders if this is what a panic attack feels like.

 

——

 

When Tony gets home, he’s surprised to see his father’s car next to his mother’s.  He’s even more surprised that, at nine o’clock in the morning, when he walks in, there are two backpacks sitting by the front door along with a pair of men’s hiking boots.  To make matters even stranger, Maria is in the middle of the foyer, hiking boots _on_ , and working through handstand variations.  Howard isn’t far from her, taking reference photos with a face that screams begrudging, and Tony can only watch on in shock as he closes the door behind him.

 

“Um,” he says, and Maria lets out this very high shriek of delight, “Hello?”

 

Maria drops out of her handstand gracefully, one leg falling down after the other, Howard clicking away with her camera, and then she turns and beams.  “My love,” she says before she comes over, and Tony just lets it all fade away as he buries himself in his mother’s arms.

 

“I needed you,” he whispers.

 

“I always need you,” she says, kissing his cheek.  She releases him after a moment and takes his jaw in her hands, leaning up to kiss his forehead.  “Get ready,” she says when she’s settled back on her heels, “We’re leaving in twenty.”

 

Tony nods and hugs her quickly before heading for the stairs, waving to his dad on the way.  Howard just nods in his direction, and then he’s jogging up the stairs to dump his things in his room, pack a small backpack for the hike, and change.

 

They end up in North Carolina.  Maria’s got it all planned out, and Tony starts to bitch when they first end up at the Stark Industries building, but Howard shushes him, says, verbatim, “Trust in your mother.  She knows best,” and Tony almost falls over.  They’re only at the building because they’re taking one of the private _jets_ to shorten their journey, and so, instead of 10 hours, they get there in just under five.

 

They stop at some restaurant Maria found for lunch, and, by the time they’re getting out of the car at the parking lot at the base of one of the South Mountains, inside the South Mountain State Park, Tony is having more fun than he can ever remember having in his youth.

 

“Alright,” Maria says, pulling on her jacket, “Surprise.”

 

“Surprise?” Howard and Tony repeat at the same time, looking over at her.

 

“We’re staying here for the weekend,” she says, trying to contain her grin, “I’ve booked us a room in a bed and breakfast, not our usual top notch places, so you’ll both have to get over it.  We have three summits planned, and they’re only going to get more fun as we go.  Come on.”

 

As she heads off, Howard leans toward Tony and says, “Does fun mean difficult?”

 

Tony just laughs, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he bumps shoulders with his dad, starts to walk away, recognizes what he’s done, and nearly trips.

 

It actually does start off fun, and not Maria’s definition of it.  Tony forgot how much he enjoys hiking with his mother, who has to stop every four seconds to take a picture, and his father, who just tugs playfully at her ponytail every time he walks by her doing so.  He just watches them for a bit, taking in these two people he doesn’t recognize, flirting and moving like they might actually be husband and wife.

 

Howard looks so different, Tony barely knows him, in his dark brown shorts, hiking boots, and navy shirt.  Tony’s been on plenty of hikes with Maria, but he has already noticed Howard’s several odd looks at his and his mother’s get up, but Tony just shrugs it away; they always goes for comfort when mountains are involved.  Maria has tight, golden mermaid leggings on, a dark green, long sleeve shirt, and her brown and green boots, her hair tied up in a high ponytail, swinging as she walks, and Tony thinks he might have to steal the leggings for _something_ , he’s sure he’ll think of a reason.  He also has leggings on, but they’re more subtle, just dark green with a brown shirt, though he knows it bothers his father.

 

“So, Tony,” Howard says after a while of quiet, “How are your classes?”

 

Tony hates this question because his answer is never satisfying enough for Howard, but he answers regardless, “Stimulating.  I think I’d like to TA for French III next semester.  There are still other classes I can take to have it as a minor, of course, which I’ll look into, as well.  I’m really loving my philosophy class.”

 

“A waste of time, if you ask me,” Howard mutters.

 

“Which he didn’t,” Maria chimes in.

 

“Of course,” Howard says, nodding once, “And your other classes?  I believe you were taking several advanced courses.”

 

“Chemistry, physics II, and calculus II.  Next semester, I’m hoping to take the advanced biophysics course, as well as the second level in chemistry, and the third in physics and calculus.  I’m starting to hone in on my actual purpose for being there, it’s nice.  I’ve been thinking about taking a class on nutrition, as well.”

 

“For what purpose?” Howard asks, and it’s only mildly tinged with disdain.

 

“It would be educational,” Tony says, “It’s not something I’ve ever really studied, and I believe it would be useful—to me, specifically.”

 

Howard is silent for a moment before he says, “I agree.  Let’s just not make it a habit, shall we?”

 

“Of course, sir,” Tony says, and Maria flashes him a smile, so he tries his own vein of questioning, “How’s work?”

 

“Tedious,” Howard actually complains, “I cannot believe some people’s idiocy sometimes.”

 

“Just because they’re not geniuses, Howard,” Maria sighs.

 

“You can be classified as a genius and still be an idiot, Maria,” he responds, looking over at her, and Tony sees something fond flicker across his expression as he continues, “You can also be classified with an average IQ and be found far superior in your intellect than others.”  Maria looks over at him, confusion written clearly in the furrow of her brow.  “An example,” Howard continues, pushing onward, “One of the gentleman on our board has expressed wondrous intelligence when it comes to several of our projects, but he fails miserably at presenting them.  It’s absolutely droll listening to him, even in plain conversation.  However, on the contrary, you are stunning.”

 

“Me?” Maria clarifies.

 

“Yes,” Howard says, as though he hasn’t paid her a compliment in many, many years, “Some of the artwork I’ve seen you produce, specifically the ones on display in your gallery, are simply magnificent.  And from what I’ve seen of Anthony’s interaction with the general public, well—I know I certainly am not to be held responsible for his kindness and tolerance.”

 

Tony stops, just staring, and Howard does after a moment, nodding.  “Howard,” Maria says, reaching for him, “Why have you never—” but she can’t finish.

 

Tony watches in amazement as she leans forward and kisses him delicately, and it clearly takes Howard by surprise, too, for he doesn’t respond at first, and then he responds gently, letting Maria pull away at last.

 

Tony waits until they’ve resumed hiking before he asks a question he’s always wondered, “How did you meet?”

 

It’s a simple answer.  “At an art gallery, actually,” Maria says, looking over at Howard, “I was there on a school trip, and he was there doing a favor for a friend.”

 

“Appearances meant everything back then,” Howard explains, “And what better press for a budding artist than the heir to Stark Industries perusing his work?  A friend from university,” he clarifies Tony’s bizarre expression, “He transferred to some art school after his first year, but we roomed together and became very close.  He was there under his father’s demands, and then he turned eighteen, left behind his fortune, and chased his dream.”

 

“You looked so wrong standing in the middle of that room, not paying attention to any one painting,” Maria says, laughing softly.

 

“And then you showed me the true beauty,” Howard reminisces, “You came up, laid a hand on my arm, and told me to step closer.  You pointed out the brush strokes.”

 

“It feels like a lifetime ago,” Maria says, and she trails off, a heavy silence settling around them until they crest over a large outcropping of rocks, and she shouts, flailing a hand at Tony.  “There’s level ground.  Come on.”

 

Tony quickly sheds his backpack as Maria hands Howard her camera, and they spend the next twenty minutes moving through a series of complex partner poses, Howard circling them, camera clicking away.  Afterward, they resume hiking, and their conversation continues going in various directions, until, finally, they’re coming close to the summit, and Tony finds himself itching with excitement until they’re bursting out from under the treetops and into a beautiful world.

 

The last quarter mile of their hike is surrounded by the open air until they finally reach the summit, and then Tony is stretching out and hopping into a forearm stand on a cliff.  He does a slow flow after that, letting Maria capture him until he’s just experimenting with backbends, and then she goes off to sit, opening her backpack and pulling out a bag of granola.  Howard sits with her, accepting a snack from her, and she starts to lean back against a rock when his arm carefully circles her, hand resting against her arm.

 

She looks up at him and waits until she can see the slightest tug at the corner of her mouth, and then she leans in against him.  “Thank you for coming,” she says softly, “I know you didn’t want to.”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t have to see him like that,” Howard says, turning to drop a kiss to the top of her head, “He hasn’t been that low in ages.”

 

“He’s going through something,” Maria sighs, pulling her knees up, “I think it’s almost over, but I’m afraid of what it’s doing to his life.  He and Steve haven’t spoken in a week.”

 

“He’s strong,” he says, surprising her, “If Steve isn’t on board yet, after everything, then Tony deserves better.  Steve has known him long enough that he knows what Tony is, knows what he’s been through, and if he’s trying to run _now_ —” Howard breaks off, shaking his head.

 

Maria watches Tony fold his legs up in full lotus, staring out at the range of mountains greeting him.  “You should have left,” Howard whispers.

 

For the first time, Maria isn’t afraid of her response when she says, “We are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like nice Howard! As Erin recently said to me, “I love bad Howard, but I love good Howard more, and I didn’t know!” He’s so much more fun, and I hate that I have to figure out which kind of Howard I want to write because he should just be Tony’s dad, but sometimes he’s Tony’s father, instead.
> 
> I’m going to keep this short because Erin and I are about to skype, but I’m hoping to keep this scene going later on tonight when I have nothing to do because I’m closing tomorrow instead of opening. I live in Massachusetts, so everywhere was closed today cos of the snow, so I actually got a lot of this written today, and I really want to finish up this portion and move on to what’s coming next before I go to work tomorrow.
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes—
> 
> i. This is a music note! I really badly want to recommend [Sleazy by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2kdCJRAiNk) for one of the party scenes, and I think I’m going to, but also include [Blow by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxchPg3Ty9s) with that. I’m not quite ready to admit that was absolutely what I was listening to while I wrote this. Yes, it was. I love Kesha. I desperately want to see her live. ERIN, GO WITH ME.

Tony wakes to the sun the following morning, lets it wash over him as he slowly starts to stretch his limbs, yawning widely before he turns over, reaching for Steve, and he’s not there.  He frowns, hand reaching out to fist in the sheets on the other side of the bed.  He hates him for doing this to him, for making a nest for himself in Tony’s heart, deep inside his chest, under his skin, only to rip himself away, leaving an open wound behind.

 

He shakes his head, pushes up from the bed as though he’s physically pushing away the thoughts.  He’s not going to think about it until Monday.  And so, instead, he climbs out of bed, rifles around until he can find his running clothes, and he grabs his sneakers before heading for the adjoining door.  He slips inside his parents’ room quietly, and what he finds, he doesn’t expect.

 

Maria is still asleep, very clearly naked, though she’s on her front, her face turned away.  Tony can’t help but stare at her, and it makes him ache a little that she keeps falling for Howard over and over again.

 

“Good morning,” Howard says as he comes out of the bathroom, dressed only in boxer briefs, “Where are you going?”

 

Tony sighs softly and looks over at him.  “I was going to ask mamma if she’d like to go for a run, but seeing as she’s asleep,” he shrugs, “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

 

“May I join you?” Howard asks, and Tony just stares at him, open-mouthed.  “You look ridiculous,” Howard says finally before he goes to dress.

 

Tony sits on the edge of their bed, tugging on his shoes and lacing them, and then he’s just left waiting for Howard to finish before they head out together, Tony resisting the urge to talk about nothing like he always does with Maria.

 

“When you were little,” Howard begins as they step outside and start stretching, “you never stopped talking.  What’s changed?”

 

“You,” Tony says outright, shrugging his shoulders one after the other, “I’m still Tony.”  Howard frowns at him.  Tony wants to say everything to him, but he’s always been so afraid of what his father might do in response.  “Don’t dwell on it,” he says instead, something his mother tells him often, and Howard starts to speak, and then seems to think better of it because he just nods and turns.

 

“Do you still begin with a hitch in your step?”

 

“I do not—” Tony begins to argue, but then Howard is taking off at a brisk jog, and Tony hurries to catch up, stumbling as he tries to feel for a hitch, swearing when he notices one.

 

They don’t talk much, jogging until Tony’s feeling too wound up, being out here with his dad, and he needs to actually run, so he picks up the pace, laughing lightly as his feet bounce off the ground.  Howard keeps pace with him, and he’s surprised as they start to slow into a cool down as they near the inn.

 

“I’m impressed,” he admits an hour later before he folds over, reaching for his toes and stretching out his calves.

 

“As am I,” Howard says, and he’s definitely breathing harder than Tony, “And starving.”

 

“Come on, I’m sure mamma is already halfway through breakfast.”

 

“You know,” Howard says, “She used to be crazy about you.  She would never let you out of her sight.  When I tried to talk her into boarding school, she nearly walked out on me.  She could have never gone that long without being with you.  It’s a wonder how she’s managing it while you’re away at school now.”

 

“It’s hard,” Tony says, “But she knows me, better than I know myself sometimes.  She’s my best friend,” he trails off as his phone starts buzzing.  He digs it out as they head inside the inn, and he frowns when he sees Johnny’s name.

 

“Everything okay?” Howard asks, noticing his expression.

 

“Yeah, it’s just—Johnny.  I don’t think you ever met him.”

 

“Isn’t he your ex?  Maria talked about him nonstop.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says before answering, “Hey hot pants, what’s up?”

 

“Tony!” Johnny yells, and there’s this noise in the background that Tony can’t make out, “Jesus, thank fuck, I’ve been trying to call you all night, but my phone’s being a wad of— _balls_.”

 

“Wad of balls?” Tony repeats, “The fuck is that noise, man?”

 

“Anthony, your language,” Howard says as they enter the breakfast area.

 

“Peter, fuck—just—Jesus, I’m sorry, hang on,” he says to Tony before he’s yelling, “He’s with me!  We weren’t fucking here!  No, _fuck you_ , I live on the other side of fucking town, man.  I’m still in fucking college, let him go.  I’ll fucking kill you.  No, yeah, he’s definitely coming with me.  Steve, _shut the fuck up_.”

 

“Steve?”

 

“I’m gonna fucking murder your boyfriend.  Peter, get him!  Oh, for the love of— _Harry_!  A little help?  Hey,” Johnny returns to him, “So Peter and I were meeting his friend Harry for brunch this morning, and out fucking stumbling comes Steve, plastered out of his fucking mind, still party hard from whatever you two were doing last night, and where the shit are you?”

 

“North Carolina,” Tony says, waving his father away when he tries to usher him over to their table.

 

“North— _what_?  Are you high?  Are you in this fucking—looks like a crack house, holy hot tamales.”

 

“No, my parents took me hiking in North Carolina for the weekend.  Steve and I aren’t speaking.”

 

“Yeah, that’s starting to explain a lot.  Do you have him?  Let’s go, we need to get out of here!  Tony, he’s seriously fucked up right now.  When are you going to be back?”

 

“Monday.  Fingers crossed he doesn’t die,” he says, and then he hangs up.  He shoots Johnny a text, _I’m sorry, but he needs to get whatever’s in his system out.  I’m not helping him through this.  He’s not worth it right now, and I really don’t give a fuck if he needs to trip over his own two feet piss drunk to realize how fucking mental he’s being.  Thank you for taking care of him, but I’m at breakfast with my parents right now, and it’s the first time in a long time my father is speaking politely to me, so I’d rather give my attention to where it’s deserved.  I’m sorry._

When he’s done, he pockets his phone and goes to join his parents, where Howard and Maria are smiling and talking.  Maria beams her hello, and they spend breakfast just enjoying one another’s company.

 

——

 

It’s raining when Steve wakes up.

 

His tongue feels like sandpaper, and there’s something acidic in his mouth, something sticking to his cheeks, and he think he might be hung over, or still drunk, and neither of those is a viable option right now.  He needs to forget this, all of it, and so pushes upright, slowly blinking open his eyes.

 

He’s in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room until he looks a little closer, and he remembers stumbling, a little tipsy, being pressed onto his back as someone fiery and quick took his virginity.

 

“Johnny?” he says aloud, but he doesn’t get a response, and so he stretches out his sore shoulders, rolls his feet, stands and reaches for his toes, and then he’s checking to make sure all his limbs are intact, he has all his clothes and belongings, and he can walk well enough before he heads for the door.

 

The apartment is quiet, so he comes down the hallway without much care, erupts into the living room, and blinks at the man sitting there.  Well, Steve thinks he’d call it sitting, but he looks similar to Tony when he’s feeling extra flexible.  One of his feet is pressed against the coffee table, toes curled around the edge, the other leg hitched up over the back of the sofa, and he’s bent forward, nearly in a split.

 

“I’m saying something first,” the man says, “so you don’t say something suddenly and frighten me.”

 

“If you know I’m here, how could I frighten you?” Steve asks, slowly coming over, and then he sees why.  He’s working on a complicated-looking circuit board, and Steve would ask questions out of curiosity, but he’s just too worn out, so he shrugs and goes off in search of his jacket.

 

“Where are you going?” the man asks as Steve opens the door.

 

“I’ll figure it out when I get there,” he says before the door snaps shut behind him, and he knows that the man, who, if he thinks about it, was probably Peter, Johnny’s boyfriend, will immediately call Johnny and let him know he’s left, so he’ll probably have a tail soon, and so he hastens to make his exit.  He wants to get as far from Johnny as possible.  He’s too much of a reminder of how much better off Tony was with him.

 

He hates to think about Tony with Johnny, how absolutely free he was, how _healthy_ Johnny was for him.  He helped Tony cross so many bridges without any of the hard work Steve had to put in, and he thinks maybe that’s why he resents their relationship so much.  He loves Tony, he’s certain of that, but he’s not sure he can live this chaotic life much longer.

 

And so he heads home, makes his way back to the one person he never wants to see again and the one person he’s actually missing right now.

 

——

 

They reach their second summit before ten.  Tony stares up at it, hands pinned against his hips, head cocked to the side, and he smiles when Maria loops an arm through one of his.  “Sei pazzo, (You’re crazy.)” he says, looking over at his mother, with her wild smile and ambitious eyes.  She looks beautiful today, her hair let down in a long, fish tail braid, her bright leggings from yesterday gone, replaced by purple to red ombre leggings, and this smile that could light up the world, that has lit up his world.

 

“Ma sono sei specie di pazzo, (But I’m you’re kind of crazy.)” Maria says in return, flashing Tony that brilliant smile before she leans up to kiss his cheek, and then she’s tugging him off, her excitement rushing into him until Tony’s feeling jittery, and they’re racing to the base of the mountain, yelling in Italian at each other.

 

Howard follows at a slower pace, and he’s actually laughing by the time he gets to them, watching Tony egg Maria on as she tries to climb a tree.  “Careful, she might fall,” Howard says as he passes by Tony, “She’s getting a little old.”

 

Tony gapes at him, but Maria just starts shouting furiously in Italian, clambering down the tree until she’s making for Howard, and Tony can’t help but grin as he watches Maria jump at him, Howard catching her, pinning her legs against his sides.  “Let’s go, old man,” she says, tugging on one of his ears before he makes to drop her, and she fakes him out, bending backward until Howard is sighing and carefully extracting her legs so she’s in a handstand that she comes out of slowly.

 

Howard starts up the mountain while Maria waits for Tony, and she keeps pace with him, walking either just a step ahead or next to him as they start up.  “Mamma,” Tony sighs after a few minutes of quiet, “Che cosa? (What?)”

 

“Hai parlato con Steve a tutti? (Have you talked to Steve at all?)”

 

“Non voglio parlare di lui. (I don’t want to talk about him.)”

 

“Antonio,” Maria sighs as Tony pushes ahead of her, “You have to.”

 

“No, I don’t,” Tony says, starting to catch up with his dad, but then Howard starts to slow.

 

“Yes,” he says, looking over at Maria, “You do.”

 

“Oh, really,” Tony says in disbelief, stopping, “What the fuck?”

 

“Anthony,” Howard starts to snap, but Maria shakes her head, one quick flick of her braid.

 

“What’s going on, bambino?” Maria asks.

 

Tony flaps his hand aggressively and keeps walking.  He strides past Howard, and they both watch after their son until Tony loses it, “He’s acting like _me_.  It’s not fair, mamma.”  He turns, his fingers bunching together in furious fists.  “I’m okay.  I’m finally fucking _okay_ , and he tells me I’m unhealthy, I’m not good for him, this isn’t working, he’s done too much to get here.”

 

“He said that?” Maria asks, frowning.

 

“Not verbatim,” Tony says, “But he’s done with me, I can feel it.  It’s not a shit show anymore, so he’s just—fucking off.  He’s bored, or something.”

 

“Tony,” Maria sighs as he starts walking away again, and she hurries to catch up, “What set this off?”

 

“I told him about Alex,” he says simply.

 

Howard begins, “Alex is—”

 

But Maria cuts him off, “I know.”  To Tony, she says, “Is this the end?”

 

“I don’t want it to be,” he says, turning again and continuing up the mountain.  He waits for his parents to follow before he goes on, “I’m afraid it is, though.  Johnny called me this morning, said he’d found Steve stumbling out of some random house, shitfaced.  I got a text from him just before we got here that he’d left earlier, and he has no idea where he’s headed for— _what_ he’s headed for.  He’s reacting like I would.  I know he’s tired, I know I’m exhausting, but this isn’t fair to me.  I’m okay, mamma, and he’s not, and I want to help him, and then he said he needed a break from me, and I don’t know what that means, and— _fuck_.”

 

Tony’s exhale comes out too sharp, and he folds over, knees bending as he winds his arms around them, nose tucking between his thighs until he’s almost sitting on the ground, and he closes his eyes, focusing his energy on his breaths.

 

He hears Maria pass him, feels her fingers threading through his hair as she continues hiking, and he’s so grateful to her for knowing not to try to help.  As Howard follows her, he says, very quietly, “You deserve more,” and it almost breaks Tony.

 

He waits for them, ahead enough that he’ll need to catch up, and then he does so, feeling more secure every second.  He’s going to be okay, with or without Steve.

 

——

 

When Alex opens the door, Steve punches him hard enough that he thinks his nose might actually be broken.  There’s blood everywhere, spilling down Alex’s face, seeping through his fingers, and staining his face.

 

He swears, a colorful and violent outburst, before he asks, “Is this about Tony?”

 

“Fuck you,” Steve says, and Alex nods.

 

“That’s fair,” Alex says, “For the record, I didn’t know until Tony told me.”

 

“He _told you_?” Steve repeats, and it takes him a moment when Alex steps aside before he can let himself walk in.

 

“At Pietro’s party,” Alex says, closing the front door and going into the kitchen to get ice and a hand towel.  When he comes back into the living room, Steve’s found a bottle of whiskey and is chugging from it.  “Okay,” Alex says, “I got something harder, if you want.”

 

“I need to get fucked up,” Steve says before he coughs at the burn down his throat.

 

“Looks like you’re already well on your way there,” Alex says, shrugging before he heads for his bedroom.  When he returns, he’s holding two baggies, one white and one that looks like dirt.

 

“Man, I want to fucking curb stomp you, that’s how mad I am,” Steve says, and Alex has the audacity to laugh.

 

“You sound like Tony,” he says, “I’m not gonna apologize for being friends with those assholes.  There’s no way I could have ever known what they were going to do, Steve.  Do you think I’m speaking with them right now?  Do you think I ever will again?  They’re fucking dead to me.  Do you know what they did to him?”

 

“They raped him,” Steve says, and he does so on autopilot because he can’t think about it.

 

“Yeah, I figured that’s what Tony would tell you,” Alex says, coming over, “Fuck, is your fist made of fucking steel or something?”

 

“He didn’t tell me,” Steve says, staring at the coffee table in front of him like it’s going to give him the answer to his dilemma, “That’s the problem.  He was never going to tell me.”

 

“Then who the fuck did?” Alex asks, frowning.

 

“His father.  I don’t even know how he knows, if Tony told him, or if Maria told him, but—but he knew, and he told me, and Tony wouldn’t even say it out loud, he wouldn’t tell me.  He never does.  He’s always trying to protect me from himself.”

 

“Protect you?” Alex asks, shaking his head, “Steve, I think you’re being a little blind.  I may mildly despise your boyfriend, but if there’s one thing I can begrudgingly admit about him, it’s that he’s fucking honest.  From that statement alone, that both his parents know what happened, he’s already way ahead of the game than anyone I know, and I think it’s safe to assume you know pretty much everything they do.  He doesn’t fucking protect you at all.  That’s your problem.  You see it all.  Fucking snort this and forget about him.”

 

And Steve does.

 

He feels like he’s on fire when he comes up for air, his veins bursting and threatening to explode, trembling inside of him until Alex’s nose has finally stopped bleeding, and he starts calling people, and the next time Steve remembers something, there are people surrounding him, and he’s lost his shirt somewhere in the midst of sweaty, dancing bodies, and something that sounds like one of Tony’s crazy party mixes is leaking through Alex’s stereo speakers, and he’s letting it all go.

 

Someone’s hands are running over his body, and he lets it happen, tips his head back, and soaks in the music.  When he brings his gaze back down, he can see Alex grinning at him, and he steps easily away from the hands and makes his way toward him.

 

“Feeling any better, muscles?” Alex asks, biting at the corner of his mouth as his eyes rake over Steve, plain as day.

 

“Awesome enough, I won’t even shit on you for checking me out.”

 

“Dude, you already fucking broke my nose or some shit,” Alex says, and Steve winces as Alex motions to the blooming bruise across the bridge of his nose, “Fuck ever, though.  I probably deserved it.  _Shit_.”

 

Steve blinks when Alex head tips back, and then he notices the man at Alex’s feet, sucking his dick like he’s got nothing better to do, and Steve has a moment of malfunction as he just stares at Alex’s cock sliding in and out of this stranger’s mouth.

 

“Fuckin’ looking, Rogers?” Alex asks, and when Steve looks back up at him, he’s got this violent spark in his eye that makes Steve nervous.

 

“Shouldn’t be,” Steve says, almost on autopilot because, with some twisted kind of abrupt clarity, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

 

He turns away before Alex can say something else that will make this feel like cheating, and he stumbles away from the party, barrels into the bathroom, and slams the door shut.  When he looks at himself in the mirror, he doesn’t recognize himself, and he thinks he might be sober for half a second before he closes his eyes and sees Tony’s face there, and he doesn’t want to be awake anymore.

 

That’s the last thing he remembers.

 

——

 

Steve wakes up on Alex’s floor, with his pants on, with a mostly naked girl draped across his legs.  His head feels like it might topple off and roll away, and so he sits gingerly, groaning as he closes his eyes against the overwhelming rush of nausea.  He reaches forward, tries to carefully extract himself from the girl, ends up just shoving her off of him, to which she grumbles at him and curls up on his side, and Steve stands, scrubbing a hand over his face.

 

On Alex’s bed, two girls are lazily making out, and so Steve quickly leaves, trying desperately to remember if he’d done anything regrettable last night.  When he comes out into the living room, there are half a dozen people splayed over various surfaces, either half asleep or waking up with boners to prod gently at whatever nearby partner they can find.

 

Alex is in the kitchen, which is free of anyone but him, and Steve heads inside, still bleary.  “Hey,” he says, dumping into a seat at his table, “The fuck happened last night?”

 

“Dude, you had a wild fucking night.  I thought your boyfriend was bad,” Alex says, tossing a grin over his shoulder, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like shit.  I’ll probably puke in a bit.  Do you know if I slept with anyone?”

 

“Fucking prude is what you are,” Alex mutters, “Nearly every person here tried to get with you, and you got close with one of those girls in my room, but you stopped every one of her advances until she finally just passed out.  I dunno what Tony does to you in bed, but he seems like he’s worth it.”

 

“Hey assface,” someone says as he comes in, and Steve looks over, eyes going wide as he recognizes the man as the one that was on his knees.

 

Alex looks, for no reason Steve can understand, suddenly panicked.  The man crosses the kitchen to him, grabs his dick through his pants and starts mouthing at his neck.  “Wanna fuck you,” he mumbles against Alex’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Alex says hurriedly, shrugging him off, “Clear out my room.”

 

“Right here,” the man says, and Steve lifts an eyebrow, standing.

 

“It’s fine,” he says to Alex because then the man’s pants are coming off, “Have fun.  Thanks for a good night.”

 

“Steve,” Alex says as he turns away, and he looks over at him in time to see him being shoved against the counter, so he ignores whatever Alex tries to say and leaves.

 

Someone grabs at his ankle on his way out, but he shakes his leg free, grabs his jacket, finds his shoes and his jacket, and heads out.  He pulls his remaining clothes on once outside, shivering against the cold, and then he closes his eyes.

 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

 

The phone rings and rings and rings, pressed tightly against his ear, and he wants desperately for him to pick up, but it keeps ringing, and he doesn’t know why he’s calling him, but he needs to hear his voice, and then Tony’s message sounds, and he hangs up.

 

He’s not going to leave him a message.  He’s not that low yet, but he thinks he’s on his way.

 

——

 

Tony sighs as he sees Steve’s name flash across the screen of his phone.  He’s still in bed, bundled up under his blankets away from the cold, and he barely slept last night, his thoughts tumbling from one happy moment to the next, banishing every single memory that threatened tears, and now here he is, staring at Steve calling him.

 

He lets it go to voicemail, hates himself for not answering, and calls Bruce.  It rings a couple times before he answers, sounding sleepy, “Yeah?”

 

“Did I wake you?” Tony asks.

 

“Uh huh,” Bruce grunts, “I think I had a sex dream about you.”

 

Tony laughs so hard and so abruptly, he almost snorts, and he can nearly feel Bruce’s grin.  “You’re an idiot,” Tony sighs, “Want me to let you go?”

 

“Nah, just letting you know I’m hard.”

 

“Fair enough.  I don’t think I could be even if I wanted to.”

 

“Liar,” Betty’s voice drifts over, “I could make it happen.”

 

“Is that a challenge?”

 

“You’re in a committed relationship,” she says, but even she sounds unsure.

 

“We’ll see,” Tony says, and then something occurs to him, “Guys.”

 

“Yes, Tony, we will,” Bruce says before he yawns.

 

“You’ll have sex with me again if Steve and I ever break up?”

 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Betty sighs, “I’d do it right now with Steve’s blessing.  You’re a mastermind, Tony Stark, yes you are.”

 

“I feel like I’m about to be sexiled.”

 

“Betty’s hand is doing something,” Bruce mumbles, “And not to me.  Hi, how are you?”

 

“Tired,” Tony admits, “I want to come home and snuggle.  I hate my dad.  Life is normal.”

 

“I thought he was being civil?” Betty asks.

 

“That’s the problem,” Tony says, “I’m so sick of wondering when it’s going to go back to being the way it always has been.  Did you know I was six the first time he hit me?  I told him long division was boring and that he was stupid, that I hated math and I never wanted to be like him.  He was low, a bad low.  I saw the bruises on my mom’s arms when we did yoga, and I never understood until I was older.  When I told him I never wanted to be like him, he grabbed my arm, dug his fingers so hard he bruised me, and then he shoved my chair forward against the table so hard that I nearly had an asthma attack.  I—I hate him.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce says.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Tony says, and he’s crying before he knows what’s happening, “I hate burdening you guys with this.  I know it’s why Steve can’t stand to be around me right now.  I know he’s sick of hearing it all, but I c-can’t stop it, I can’t—can’t stop thinking about everything.  He-he told me I was _lying_ , that I just wanted attention, that I was a whore.  My own father told me to g-grow up and get over it.  And now, just—just because I’m in c-college, it’s okay for him to come back, to try to be a father, to get angry over some—I’m gonna throw up.”

 

He leaves the phone, and he barely makes it into the bathroom before he’s vomiting, fingers curling around the porcelain rim, and he’s shaking by the time he finally sinks back onto his heels.  He can hear Bruce and Betty calling for him, so he forces himself to his feet, rinses out his mouth, flushes, and goes back into the bedroom, tucking up under his blankets and putting his phone on speaker.

 

“Hi,” he says.

 

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Bruce snaps, “You are my best friend, and I love you so much.  I would do anything for you, Tony, and Steve is out of his fucking mind if he doesn’t want to hear everything, doesn’t want to know it all.  God, if it was me, I’d want you to spill your guts, anything you couldn’t keep inside, and I would hold you through it all, or fucking leave you alone, whatever you wanted.  He knew, he _knew_ from the very beginning, and he’s pulling this shit now?  I am furious with him for doing this to you.  I mean, I know our situations aren’t the same, but what does he think Betty does, just twiddles her thumbs all day and ignores me?  You and I are victims of abuse, Tony, and while yours is far more severe, Betty and Steve should be on the same playing field, and what he’s doing to you isn’t fair.”

 

“I know,” Tony whispers, “I’m not ready to let him go.”

 

“I wasn’t saying you should,” Bruce says, his voice softening, “But I do think you should consider it an option if this continues.  I—”

 

“What is it?” Tony asks when Bruce doesn’t continue for several seconds.

 

“Come in!” Betty calls.

 

And then, when Tony can barely stand the silence anymore, she says, “Holy shit, Steve.”

 

Two hours later, when Maria is curled up behind him, Tony gets a text, _In the clear.  He finally stopped puking.  He’s fucking wasted out of his mind.  We’ll take care of him._

Tony just rolls over onto his other side and hides in Maria’s embrace, and he doesn’t know if he’s crying about Steve or about his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for this chapter. Shit is going down, and I promise it’s going to end soon, but they need to ride this out, they need to go through this, and they’re going to come out stronger, but this needs to happen for now. Goodness, it’s awful. I do have to admit, though, I am enjoying writing Steve like this a little bit. I was talking to Erin about this, comparing it to the depressed!Steve fic I did. I just love unraveling him and looking at all the different pieces of him. It’s so fun!
> 
> Also, I know it’s taking longer than usual for me to post these chapters, but I promise you I am still writing. It’s hard with the job cos most days, when I get home, I just want to read and fall asleep, and then it always sucks trying to get into something when I have to leave in a few hours, so I usually just write on my days off. But, I have another day off on Sunday, so fingers crossed I’ll get the next chapter up sooner!
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. This is a music note! Later, when you’ve finished this chapter, you’re going to think I’m a complete asshole for recommending this song for the last couple scenes, but it makes sense in my head in a really weird way, and I’ll explain after. So, I definitely think [Last Goodbye by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7DB-Td47eA) fits once Tony’s left Rhodey’s until the end of the chapter.

They climb another, shorter summit before they head home, and it’s late by the time Tony crawls into bed and passes out.  He’s exhausted from the weekend and glad he’s not going home until the morning, which seems to come too fast.  He goes through the motions, attends all his classes, goes to lunch and dinner, and then when it seems like it’s time to be alone in the room with Steve, he decides to instead go to the yoga class the school is offering.

 

He wears a pair of dark teal to almost white ombre leggings, a loose, grey shirt under his boots and jacket, makes the first asshole who pokes fun flinch as he jerks his fist toward him, and, by the time he arrives at the room where they’re holding the class, he’s so riled up, he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the next hour.

 

“Tony,” a thick, accented voice says from his left, and he looks over even as he’s toeing out of his boots to see Natalia Romanova, dressed in black tights and a blood red leotard, hugging the shape of her lovely body beautifully.  “It’s been a while.”

 

“Too long,” Tony says, finding he might actually mean it, “How’s your first semester in the States going?”

 

“Boring.  I had hoped to see you before now to compare notes.  How are your classes?”

 

“Boring,” Tony concurs, “I’m always looking for more.  I didn’t know you did yoga.”

 

“And ballet, as well as Russian ballet.”

 

Tony almost chokes.  “You definitely just threatened my life.”

 

“Only a little,” Natalia says, grinning, “How long have you been doing yoga?”  She unrolls her mat gracefully and then steps into an easy split, one leg reaching up to the ceiling, the other pressed against her forearm, her nose brushing the side of her knee.

 

“Not that long,” Tony says, staring at her.

 

“Dancers have different abilities,” Natalia says as she lets her leg tip backward a little and then switches, “Let’s see yours.”

 

“My split?” Tony asks, unsure.

 

“Can you?” Natalia asks as she starts to slide forward into an arm balance, legs still apart.  She starts to lower herself down, and Tony sighs.

 

“Yeah, but I haven’t in a while,” he admits, rolling out his own mat and starting to stretch.

 

He can’t manage it before the class begins, and then they’re moving fluidly, Natalia’s gaze flicking over to him every once in a while, studying him, and Tony thinks, by the end of the class, she’s at least a little impressed.

 

“What about acroyoga?” she asks, and Tony grins widely.

 

“I love it,” he says, “My mother taught me a little, but I learned most of it from my friends, Betty and Bruce, and then Steve and I tried it, which was—” he blinks, breaking off.

 

“You have no room for tension in your life,” she says, reaching out and taking Tony’s hand, lacing their fingers together.  She holds it up for him to see.  “You must be entwined only with yourself and your own misgivings in life, not other’s.  If there is something stilling your heart with Steve, then let it go.”  She releases his hand to reach hers forward and press it lightly against his sternum, and Tony’s exhale is hard.

 

Natalia smiles softly and steps back, reaching down to roll up her mat.  “I’m starving.  You?”

 

“Definitely,” Tony says, hurrying to follow.

 

They get food from the snack bar together, find a table to eat it at as they chat away, getting to know one another better, and then they’re bundling up for the cold and heading out.  “What dorm do you live in?” Tony asks as they reach the crosswalk.

 

“Stone.  I think it’s a little behind your building, yes?  Are you doing anything tonight?”

 

“Nothing that requires my attention.  What did you have in mind?”

 

“I met these Romanians recently—”

 

“Pietro and Wanda?”

 

“You know the Maximoffs?” Natalia says, their last name sounding wonderful on her tongue.

 

“They run track with Steve.  What are they up to tonight?”

 

“They were going to have a low key party, told me to bring someone if I wanted.”

 

“Sounds like heaven, actually.  Are you stopping at yours to change?”

 

“I wasn’t planning on it.  They said if I liked tonight, they had something big planned for this weekend.  Something—glittery, I think they said.”

 

“Oh, I would love to know what that means.  Come on, let’s go see what they’re up to.”

 

He steers her off in the direction of their hall, and it’s a night to remember.  They spend it getting high and painting each other’s bodies for the hell of it, and when Tony finally surfaces, his grin is so wide, it hurts, and he hasn’t felt this good in forever.

 

By the time he gets back to his dorm, he doesn’t care that Steve isn’t there, and he takes a quick shower before climbing into bed and falling asleep easily.

 

——

 

Steve is doing his damndest to remember when Tony has classes on Tuesdays and if he’ll notice that Steve didn’t come home last night, or if he’s going to walk into an arms-folded-across-the chest, angry-glaring Tony.

 

However, as he’s coming down the street that’s across from their dorm, he sees him, jogging down the street with Bruce, headphones tucked snugly into his ears.  It’s a cool down jog, and he’s in shorts despite the cold weather.  Bruce is wearing pants, and they’re a little looser than Tony’s spandex, though not by much.

 

Steve crosses the street slowly, watching them come toward the dorm hall.  Bruce spots him first, raising a hand in a wave, and then, as Steve is coming up the small incline onto the sidewalk, they slow until they’re stopping, hands reaching high, and Tony lets out this loud, obnoxious noise before he swan dives and kicks up easily into a handstand.  Bruce sighs, but follows, and, to Steve’s utter amazement, they do a set of five handstand pushups each before stepping back down onto their feet.

 

“You’re an assmonger,” Bruce groans, giving Tony a playful push as he pulls out his headphones.

 

“You need it, my little chub,” Tony teases, ducking in to tickle Bruce, who drops a shoulder, catches Tony’s midriff, and lifts him in the air before Tony can even begin to protest.  He carries him halfway up the walkway, drops him, and then jogs up the stairs before Tony can catch up.

 

He doesn’t even look back to see if Steve is following.

 

By the time Steve reaches their room, Tony is changing out of his running clothes and into yoga clothes.  “Where are you going?” Steve asks, glancing at his watch—it’s only ten o’clock.

 

“Yoga class,” Tony says, pulling up a pair of orange leggings, “I didn’t want to be alone with you yesterday, so I went.  Turns out, Nat goes, so we’re hooking up today, too.”

 

“Nice,” Steve huffs, shaking his head and looking away, “Sorry to be a burden.”

 

“Really, asshole?” Tony counters, “That’s what you’re going to say?”

 

“What do you expect me to say, Tony?  I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.”

 

Steve starts to turn away when Tony stops being silent, “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

 

“What the fuck is wrong with _me_?” Steve retorts, snapping back toward him, “Can you even comprehend what you’ve put me through?”

 

“Okay, _really_ , I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” Tony spits, “Here’s the first secret to the fucking delusion you’ve created—yes, I fucking do.  I know what my life is like, what _I’m_ like.  My father has asked me the same questions that keep occurring to you over and over again.  What is wrong with you?  Why are you like this?  Who are you?  What have you become?  Guess fucking what secret number two is?  _You knew, too_.  You knew from the very first fucking day, and don’t you dare say otherwise.  This is nothing new to you.”

 

“Nothing new?” Steve repeats, taking a step closer to him, “Is that what you honestly believe?  Tony, you had a heart attack.”

 

“Because I don’t have a functional fucking heart!” Tony explodes, and Steve is close enough for him to hit, so he throws a punch wildly.

 

Steve deflects it out of habit, and then Tony is lunging at him, and they’re _brawling_.  Tony’s body hits him like a tidal wave, careening into him, and Steve staggers backward a second before one of Tony’s elbows goes flying back, and Steve is too late to catch the fist that hits him in the ribs, so he grabs onto one of Tony’s shoulders, dislodges him, and throws him backward.  He comes after him in time for Tony to throw a knee up, catch Steve in the stomach with his shin and send him jerking backward until he throws a punch that Tony almost ducks, that catches him on the jaw and sends him sprawling on his back on their bed.

 

Steve is on him before Tony has time to react, and he pins him down, fingers curling tightly around Tony’s wrists.  “I thought you were going to die,” Steve throws the words at him like an insult, “I’m still afraid you might.”

 

“That’s not what this is about,” Tony says, glaring up at him.  Steve tries to snap something awful back at him, but no words come out, and Tony’s next exhale is harsh.  “Do you even know what this is about?”

 

“How much longer until the next time you fall apart?”

 

Tony deflates, his whole body going limp under Steve’s weight.  “I can’t keep trying to prove myself to you.  I can’t keep reminding you how long I’ve been off the hard stuff, how hard I’m trying to find some semblance of being clean.  You’re either here or you’re not.”

 

Steve starts to tell him that this is unhealthy, that they aren’t right anymore, but he knows it isn’t true.  He tries to remember why he’d needed space in the first place, thinks of Tony’s low, thinks on what caused it, remembers Alex getting in his face, and then it occurs to him.

 

“Were you sure Alex knew?”

 

“Get off me,” Tony says, and Steve obeys, rolling off of him and watching as Tony sits, lifting a hand to rub his jaw.  “No,” he says finally, and it nearly breaks Steve, “I had to be sure.”

 

“You found out that night for sure.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And that’s what caused the low?”

 

“It was a trigger.  Steve,” Tony sighs, “This is me.”  He looks over at him, shrugging one shoulder.  “I am bipolar.  I am manic depressive.  I am congenital heart disease and arrhythmia.  I am anxiety.  I am abused and raped and drugged.  But I am also Tony.”

 

Steve feels the last thread breaking.  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

 

“Come to yoga with me,” Tony says, standing, “It’s better than talking.”

 

Steve smiles.  “Maria?” he asks.

 

“Bambino,” Tony imitates his mother, “There’s no use crying when you can be upside down.”

 

“Now I’m picturing toddler Tony trying to stand on his hands.”

 

“Did my first one when I was six.”

 

And that’s it.  Somehow, miraculously, they’re moving on.  Steve knows they have a ways to go, but this is a beginning.

 

——

 

It doesn’t last as long as Tony thought it might.  He knows something is going on with Steve, something that’s turning his insides dark and violent, but he doesn’t know how to pull him back, how to keep him from drowning, and so he’s just trying to stay afloat himself, let Steve crash and burn until he can find his way back, and when he does, Tony will be waiting, but he needs to keep himself safe first.

 

Thursday comes around, and Tony’s been going to yoga with Natalia all week, his excitement level rising the more she talks about whatever’s happening this weekend with Pietro and Wanda.  They go to an early yoga class because he’s in class late on Thursdays, and, when he finally gets out of philosophy, he digs out his phone and calls Steve because he misses his voice.

 

Steve answers, but it’s loud in the background when he shouts, “ _Hey_!  _Tony_!”

 

“Steve?” he says because this doesn’t sound like him.

 

“When are you coming hoooome?” he whines, “I’m having fun without you!”

 

Tony’s brow furrows as he listens, and then he understands, “Are you having a party?”

  
“Fuck yeah!” Steve yells, and then, suddenly, the line goes dead.

 

Tony hastens to make it home, sliding his card so he can get into the lobby, and he stops by Betty and Bruce’s room, but there’s no answer.  As he’s walking by, their CA pokes her head out of the door, sighing.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, glancing at her, “I’ll stop it.”

 

“Eleven o’clock is quiet hours, Tony.  You have one hour.”

 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Tony says, and then he’s hurrying down the hall.

 

When he opens the door to his room, he doesn’t know what to feel.  There are people packed into their room, and, if he squints through the haze of smoke, he thinks he can see Betty and Bruce, pressed close together, dancing, in the midst of surging bodies.

 

The music is _loud_ , vibrating through the room until Tony thinks it might actually be leaking inside of him.  He quickly shuts the door behind him, deposits his backpack and jacket in the corner before sliding around people, searching for Steve.

 

He finds him finally, _snorting a line of cocaine_.

 

Tony just stares at him, watches his head snap back up, inhaling deeply, and he doesn’t know what to do when Steve’s gaze comes level with his own, when he grins and shouts his name, when the room erupts in a cheer and someone thuds against him.

 

He staggers, checks over his shoulder to make sure whoever it was is okay, and then, when he looks back, Steve is in front of him, bearing down on him.  “Hey, hot pants,” Steve slurs, and, without warning, Tony doesn’t want to be touched.

 

He shakes his head, stepping back, but there are so many people, he can barely move, and he feels like he’s suffocating.  “Don’t call me that,” he says without meaning to, and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

“Why, because that’s a Johnny thing?  Come on,” he tries to coo, “He’s old news, sugar.  This is me and you.”  Steve grabs at him, fingers closing around his wrist and tugging him close.  He leans down, booze breath washing over Tony before he whispers in his ear, “I wanna fly with you, Tony.”

 

Tony jerks away from him, appalled.  “Old news is better than this,” he says, and Steve frowns, understanding a little, “He knew when to stop.  Steve, I—I had a heart attack.  Do you get that?”

 

Steve waves a hand at him, “That was weeks ago.  Old news.  Come on.”

 

Steve grabs at him again, but this time, Tony doesn’t care if he tramples on someone, he just needs to get out of here.  He shoves his way backward, turns as Steve calls his name, and pushes back through the crowd of grinding bodies until he can get his jacket and backpack again.  He lets the party leak out into the hallway for a second before he shuts the door quietly, and he takes the back way, jogging down the stairs and out one of the exits in the back of the dorm.

 

Once outside, he inhales deeply before digging into his backpack for a cigarette.  He lights up, lets it fill him up, and then he starts walking, thumbing into his contacts and calling Rhodey.  He answers on the third ring, “Hey man, haven’t heard from you in a while.  What’s up?”

 

“Can I crash at yours tonight?  I know it’s late, and this is going to sound stupid coming from me, but I can’t be here right now.”

 

“Yeah, of course.  Let me know when you’re here, I’ll open the door.”

 

“I’ll be there in three minutes, tops.  Thank you.”

 

He hangs up, and when he gets to Rhodey’s dorm, he’s waiting by the door.  He opens it quickly, waving Tony in out of the cold.  He follows Rhodey up to the second floor and into his room, where Rhodey’s roommate, Sam, is sitting on a beanbag in front of their TV, gaming.

 

“Sam, this is Tony,” Rhodey introduces, and Sam pauses the game, tipping his head back and waving at Tony.

 

“Hey,” Tony says, a little softer than he means to, and Rhodey frowns, knocking shoulders with him.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“It’s a long, shitty story,” Tony says, scrubbing a hand through his hair, “Short version: Steve’s an asshole.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that version before,” Rhodey says, shrugging one shoulder, “It’s cool.  You don’t have to talk about it.  Want a beer?  Sam’s about to get his ass kicked.”

 

“Nah, I’m on the wagon,” Tony says, and Rhodey nods, smiling.

 

“Good to hear it.  How’s that heart of yours holding up?”

 

“Still kicking,” Tony says, and he almost laughs.

 

Rhodey digs out another beanbag for Tony to dump on, and then they’re all taking turns until it’s nearly two, and Sam’s yawning.  “I have a class at ten,” he says, stretching, “I gotta crash.”

 

“Let me get you some blankets,” Rhodey says, and Tony just smiles his thanks and waits until Rhodey’s dumped a heap of blankets at his feet.  He spreads them out on the floor, does a quick, five-minute yoga flow, and then he’s curling up, tucking his knees in close against his chest, trying not to think about Steve’s voice as he closes his eyes.  He has trouble for the first hour, and then he’s pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes, his jaw clenching.  He banishes him from his thoughts, pushes him as far away as he can, and then he falls asleep.

 

In the morning, Tony wakes before Rhodey.  It’s Friday, so he doesn’t have class, but he’s been getting up early for a few weeks now, and it’s starting to feel natural.  He folds away the blankets, drops a kiss on Rhodey’s forehead, and heads out.  He shoots him a text on his way out the front door, _thank you for last night._

When he gets back to his dorm hall, he’s a little nervous, but he heads around the corner and down the hall to his room, hoping that it’s not too trashed.

 

He walks in to something of a mess, but it’s not this that catches his attention, but instead the two half naked men lying in the closet, the door open, their legs poking out.  There’s another one curled up on the floor with a blanket thrown over him, and then there’s Steve, butt naked and out cold.  He’s spread out on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, and his dick is hard, sitting heavy against his thigh.

 

Tony wants to scream.

 

He lets the door slam behind him, and everyone jerks awake.  He shoots a well-aimed kick at the feet coming out of the closet, snaps, “Get the fuck out of my room,” and then goes over to the one on the floor.  He yanks him to his feet, shoves him toward the door, grabs a pair of sweats hanging off a nearby chair, and throws them at Steve.  “Put some fucking pants on.”

  
Steve looks like he doesn’t understand him, is just _staring_ , this blank, unsure expression on his face that Tony wants to smack off, and so he leans in close, curls a hand around Steve’s neck, wants to spit at him when he actually fucking leans up like he thinks Tony is going to kiss him, and says, “If your cock is hard because you cheated on me, I will put you in the fucking ground, so put some fucking pants on before I fucking break it.”

 

The door opens and closes, and Tony straightens, checks that the room is clear, and then turns back to Steve, who’s standing and tugging on his sweats.  “Do you honestly think I’d cheat on you?” Steve asks like he’s offended.

 

“Do you fucking know if you did or not?” Tony snaps back, throwing his backpack toward the wall, “Last time I saw you, you were snorting a line of fucking _coke_ , Steve.  What is going on?”

 

“Oh, like you haven’t done worse,” Steve dismisses him, starting to push past him when Tony shoves him, _hard_.

 

“This is not okay,” Tony says, and he feels numb, “You can’t do this to me.”

 

“I didn’t cheat on you,” Steve says, “Do you honestly not believe me?”

 

“I don’t know how to believe anything you say anymore,” Tony admits, “I don’t even know who you are.”

  
“So it’s okay for you to fuck up your life, but not me?”

 

Tony lets out a short, sharp laugh before he says, “What kind of example is that for Leah?”

 

The words rock Steve, and he thinks back on last night, trying desperately to remember what had happened after the cocaine.  He’d been so furious with Tony, he’d done everything in his power to erase his face haunting him, but he knows, he _knows_ he didn’t go too far.

 

“I don’t—” he tries to speak, and fails.  Tony just stares at him.  “I didn’t cheat on you,” Steve repeats, “It was just—they were just—Tony.”

 

And then it occurs to Tony, this sudden flash of something awful, of him riding Johnny, watching Steve jerk off.  “Did you watch?” he asks, his voice breaking.

 

He did.  Steve knows he did.

 

“Tony,” he whispers, his eyes widening.  He doesn’t know how to stop this.

 

Tony looks away from him quickly, but Steve still sees his eyes fill, still sees everything that he’s always trying to avoid.  He can’t hurt Tony, not like this.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“You—you—I can’t believe you,” he mutters, “ _Why_?  What did I do wrong?”

 

“Tony, no,” Steve says, reaching for him, but Tony flinches away.

 

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, “Don’t fucking touch me.  You fucking _cheated_ on me!”

 

“No,” Steve says, shaking his head quickly, “No, Tony, I would never—”

 

“Never?” Tony echoes, his voice rising into hysteria a little, “You would never?  You cheated on Sharon, and you had to break up with Bucky before you cheated on him, but really, you cheated on him, too, and do you even know why Johnny let me in?  Because he knew you’d cheat on him eventually, too.  This is your fucking m.o., Steve.  I should have known it was only a matter of time before you fucking cheated on me, too.”

 

“I didn’t—”

 

“Watching is fucking cheating, Steve!” Tony explodes, “I can’t believe I let this happen!  I must be a fucking moron to not see this coming.  And you know what the worst part is?  I’ve never been cheated on, and it almost hurts more than everything else anyone has ever done to me.”

 

“Tony—”

 

Steve feels like he’s losing him.

 

“This is over,” Tony says before he can swallow the words back down.  He feels something sharp tug in his chest, and he turns away.  He can’t look at him.  “This is over,” he echoes, his fingers trembling, “I can’t let you hurt me like this.”

 

Steve can’t breathe.  He stares at him, his chest so tight, it hurts.  “Tony,” he whispers, but he’s already gone.

 

 

——

 

Tony barely makes it around the corner before he’s crying.  He stumbles blearily down the hall until he reaches the super couple’s room, and then he knocks softly, trying to compose himself as his breaths hitch higher and higher, his shoulders jumping as tears leak out of his eyes, falling quickly down his face.  He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do right now, how he’s supposed to feel.

 

He wants his mom.

 

He wants to curl up in her arms and listen to her tell him that it’s going to be okay, that he can banish this from his life, too, that he can forget it and never feel it twisting his heart into pieces again.

 

When Bruce opens the door, Tony nearly sobs with relief.  He hadn’t realized how much he needed Bruce and not Betty.  He looks a little dazed, like he was in the middle of a complex sentence for an essay, and Tony feels bad for coming to him, for always dumping his problems on him.

 

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he manages to force out, “I shouldn’t—have—have come h-here.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce says, reaching for him even as Tony starts to turn away.  His fingers curl around his wrist, and Tony almost breaks, chin dipping forward as his quiet crying hiccups into something louder, something that scratches at his throat and forces its way out.  “Come here,” he says, tugging Tony toward him.

 

He leads Tony into the room, and then Tony’s stepping in, and Bruce folds him away, arms wrapped tightly around him.  “It’s okay,” Bruce whispers, “Whatever it is, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out.”  Tony feels his lips brush against his neck, and he falls apart, clinging to Bruce, fingers fisting in his sweatshirt as Bruce’s hands press tightly against his back, holding him there.  “It’s okay, Tony,” he murmurs, and then Tony hears the footsteps.

 

He pushes away from Bruce before it starts happening, and says, “I broke up with Steve.”

 

Bruce stares at him, mouth dropping open in shock.  “What?” he says, and he looks confused.

 

Tony reaches up, wiping at his eyes just before there’s a knock on the door.  “Go away,” Tony whispers, and he doesn’t know how, but somehow, someway, Steve hears him, and the door opens.  It doesn’t swing in quick anger, it just opens, this slow, apologetic shift against the floor as Tony turns halfway and looks at him.  “Go away,” he says a little louder this time.

 

“Tony,” Steve’s voice breaks around his name, and he takes two long strides before he’s pulling Tony against him.

 

“Go away,” Tony cries, pushing against him, but Steve holds on, squeezing Tony to him, trying to pull them back together.

 

“I’m not letting you go,” Steve whispers, one hand coming up to thread through Tony’s hair, and Tony lets it happen for a second, lets himself feel the shape of Steve arms, lets himself pretend this is okay, this is what he needs right now, and then he steps away.

 

“You watched,” Tony says, taking a steadying breath before he looks up at Steve, “You were—snorting a line last night, and god only knows what else you took.  I know, I’m a hypocrite, I am the worst that there is, but this—” he gestures at Steve, at everything, “—this isn’t you.  This is what I’ve done to you.”

 

“You can’t for one second think I wouldn’t have gotten here myself,” Steve says, but Tony’s already shaking his head.

 

“You fell for a drug addict,” he says simply, and it hurts, the way his eyes are burning, his stomach churning as he thinks about his life without Steve, and then he takes another breath, a deep, calming one, and reminds himself that he made it almost twenty years without him, and this, too, shall pass.  “I wasn’t healthy for you,” Tony says, “And now you’re not healthy for me.  This is it.  This is the end.”

 

He’s so tired, he just wants to go to sleep.

 

“I will never stop fighting to be with you,” Steve says, and it shatters Tony’s last resolve.

 

“Steve,” he says, his name breaking apart on his tongue, and Steve starts forward, but Tony steps back, and he stops, reaching a hand back until Bruce tangles their fingers together.  “I need you back.”

 

“I’m right here,” Steve pleads.

 

“No, you’re not.  Please leave me alone.”

 

Steve holds his gaze for a moment longer before he straightens, his shoulders tight as he says, “I’m sorry.  I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“Go away,” Tony whispers, turning his head.

 

“You’re wrong.  I stopped wondering a long time ago.”

 

Tony tries to respond and finds he can’t, just squeezes Bruce’s hand tighter, trying to hold it all in.

 

“I want my day to begin and end with you,” Steve says, and he almost doesn’t get the last word out.  His eyes are welling with tears as he tries his hardest not to choke on his next words, “I love you.”

 

And then he’s gone, and Tony’s knees give out.

 

——

 

Steve tries to stay in his room, tries to just curl up on his bed and let it wash over him, but the silence is killing him.  Every time he opens his eyes, he thinks he sees Tony stretched out on his yoga mat, leg twisted in some insane way, or perched at his desk, not quite sitting as he furiously types out code, or suspended in the air, trying handstand variations, or poking out of the closet, smoke curling from his lips, a wicked grin on his face, or snug against Steve, peppering his body with kisses, and it drives him mad.

 

He needs to get out of here.

 

He makes it halfway to Alex’s before he hears Tony’s words echoing around his skull, _You were—snorting a line last night, and god only knows what else you took._ He doesn’t even remember the cocaine, doesn’t remember anything but a blur of bodies and Tony’s expression of hurt.

 

And then he’s knocking on Alex’s door, and he thinks maybe he should just cheat, just to bring it all full circle, and he’s not even sure it counts as cheating if this really is their end, but he knows.  He knows with every fiber in his being that this isn’t, that this story he and Tony are writing is never going to end, that he’s intertwined himself in Tony’s life, that he’s so deeply ingrained that he’s never going to get Tony out from under his skin.

 

He knows that he’s met his soul before.

 

And so, when Alex opens the door, Steve can’t explain why he steps in and kisses him other than he thinks a lot of this is Alex’s fault, and he wants him to feel that.  He puts every poisonous thing that’s ever happened to Tony in his mouth and drowns Alex in it, exhales his terrifying words out of his body and shoves them back at someone who laughed in Tony’s face.

 

“Jesus,” Alex says, rearing back, “Not that I’ve not been pining for that, but what the fuck?”

 

“You knew,” Steve says, grabbing him and kissing him again.  He wants to make Alex feel what Tony felt.

 

Alex doesn’t understand what’s happening, even when his back hits the wall and Steve presses angry hands against his shoulders, pins him there as he bites his lip.  “You fucking knew,” Steve pushes the words into Alex’s mouth, and he tastes acid a second before he jerks away.

 

He stares at Alex, with his darkening eyes and sloppy grin, as he starts to push away from the wall and come for Steve, who just lifts his hands and shoves him back, and it doesn’t feel good when Alex hits the wall.  “You knew, and you lied to me.”

 

“The fuck’s going on out here?” a voice floats down the hallway, and Steve turns, sees someone he recognizes but can’t quite place why until Alex responds.

 

“Josh,” he says quietly, “It’s nothing.  I’ll be back in a second.”

 

“Joshua,” Steve says, gaze snapping back to Alex, who realizes his mistake.

 

“Steve—”

 

Steve sees red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW, OH MY GOD, I’M SO SORRY.
> 
> This is awful, this is so, so wrong, and I’m so, so sorry, but I promise you, with everything that I know, they are going to come out of this together. There’s a lot going on, and I hate that these updates are coming so far apart, but I swear to you, this is not the end, not even close, they have so much left to do, so much love left to create. But also, I think this is a really good step for them. Couples go through some awful shit sometimes, and it makes them stronger in the end. My parents dated, broke up for a few months, and are now married. Shit is going to happen, and they’re going to hate each other sometimes, but they’re going to be okay. Don’t freak out. This is just the beginning of their story. We still have a long ways to go, and while this is horrible, neither of them are ready to let go. They just need to cry it out, or, in Steve’s case, beat the shit out of someone. Oh, just wait. I’ve already begun writing the opening scene for the next chapter, and it’s something scary alright.
> 
> As for the Kesha song, this is kind of what I’m getting at. This is their last goodbye apart before they face the world together, for the rest of their lives. Also, it’s just an awesome song.
> 
> Anyway, I have to get ready for work, but I wanted to quickly write these last two scenes so I could post the chapter. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	46. Chapter 46

Tony stays curled up in Bruce’s bed, Bruce wrapped around him, limbs tangled together until Tony feels safe, feels grounded.  Betty returns after her classes are over, and Tony knows that Bruce texted her, and so it’s no surprise when she dumps her things on the floor and comes over to curl up on Tony’s other side, folding him away between the two people he knows will never leave him.

 

They stay there until it’s time for lunch, and they manage to convince Tony that he needs to eat, and so he follows them to the dining hall.  When they get back, he thanks them quietly, promises he’ll be okay, and slowly makes his way back to his room.

 

He intends to pull on one of Steve’s sweatshirts, to tug a blanket over his head and call Maria, to listen to her voice until it lulls him into something calmer, and then he opens the door, and Steve’s just _there_.

 

He’s standing in the middle of the room, and he doesn’t look right.  His shoulder is in a strange position, twisted forward at an odd angle, like he’s holding his arm in front of him.  He’s looking straight ahead, at their shared bed, and Tony feels like he can’t breathe.

 

“Steve?” he says unsurely.

 

When he turns, Tony wishes he’d just listened to his father and gone to MIT.

 

Steve is a mess.  His shoulder is clearly dislocated, his face a ruin.  One of his eyes is almost swollen shut, a nasty bruise blooming over the left side of his face, his bottom lip is stained with blood, and his knuckles are dark and aching.

 

“I couldn’t stop,” he says, his voice soft and broken.

 

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony breaks, hurrying over.  He leads him to the bed, and Steve sits without hesitation, watching Tony move around the room blearily until he finally returns with a small first aid kit.  He pulls up one of the desk chairs so he can sit in front of Steve, and then he just stares at him.  “What the fuck?” he whispers finally, and Steve’s good eye closes.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, “I’ve been out of control, which isn’t fair to you, and I’m just— _poisonous_.  I can’t do this to you, but I can’t do this without you.  I need your help, Tony.  I’m so sorry I flipped out, I don’t even—I don’t even know _why_.”

 

“I’m a lot,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder as he sets the kit down on the bed next to Steve and gets to work.  He starts cleaning the area around his eye as he says, “I know you hate when I talk about my father and all that he’s done, but—”

 

“It makes complete fucking sense why you do,” Steve interrupts, reaching for Tony’s wrist and stopping him.  He holds onto him, blue eye holding his blue gaze, and Tony sighs.

 

“I’m tired,” he says.

 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says, “I’ve been such an asshole.  Of course seeing Alex has been difficult, and I shouldn’t have freaked out over your low.  I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have gone there today.”

 

“Where?  What happened?”

 

“I went to Alex’s.  I—I wanted to hurt him, I wanted him—to feel what you did.  Oh god, I kissed him.”

 

Tony jerks back so fast, it’s like he’s been electrocuted.  “You—you what?”

 

He can feel his heart rising up in his throat as his stomach sinks to his feet, and it’s not a panic attack, but more like he feels like he might be physically ill.

 

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean—I can’t lie to you.”

 

Steve keeps staring at him.

 

Tony lifts a hand to his mouth, bites his lip so hard it might start bleeding—he can’t breathe.

 

“Joshua was there,” Steve continues, like he isn’t ripping Tony into shreds, “He came out of Alex’s room, wearing boxers, and I lost it.  I don’t even remember stopping.”

 

“You kissed Alex?” Tony finally manages.

 

Steve finally looks away from him, down at his lap, where his bloody hands rest.  “I wanted to hurt him.  I wanted to shove every acidic thing inside of me into him.  I don’t know why I kissed him.  I didn’t want to.  I wanted him to know what it felt like to be trapped.”

 

“You—” he can’t, he cannot go on, or he’s afraid he might vomit.  He turns his body away from Steve, closes his eyes, but it only makes it worse, because his world goes dark, and he feels hands pressing down against his shoulders, and he needs to escape.  “You’re disgusting,” he bites out before he runs.  He runs until his feet are hitting concrete, until the chill is biting at his bare arms, until he feels like he’s swallowing knives, and then he stumbles to a stop, hands thudding hard against his knees as he throws up.

 

He’s barely wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and stood up before he’s dialing Maria, and he paces as he waits for her to pick up.  When she finally does, it’s with a breathless, “Hello?”

 

“What’s wrong?” Tony asks immediately, stilling.

 

“Your father’s in the hospital.”

 

Tony’s knees start to shake.  “What?” he stammers.

 

“He left for Russia on Tuesday,” Maria says quickly, and it sounds like she’s running, “And he’s in the fucking hospital by Friday.  I can’t do this, I can’t fucking do this with him anymore.”

 

“Was he drinking?” Tony asks, and he can’t close his eyes because there are fingers digging into his shoulders.

 

“He was shot.  The fucking mob boss shot him.”

 

“For _what_ , mamma?”

 

“For not drinking,” Maria spits out, “Tony, I’m about to get in the car, I—”

 

“Are you going there?”

 

“I’m not leaving him alone in that country.  He’s coming home with me, and Howard fucking Sr can take care of it next time.  I have to go.”

 

“Mamma,” Tony says, and there’s a hand around his neck, a whisper in his ear telling him it’ll be okay, it’ll be over soon, he just needs to be quiet, “Mamma, I need you.”

 

“Bambino,” she sighs, “Cosa c'è di sbagliato?(What’s wrong?)”

 

“Steve kissed Alex.  He—he wanted to hurt him, so he kissed him.”

 

“Dio mio.(Oh my god.)”

 

“Go to Russia,” Tony forces out, “I’m just—I’ll figure this out.”

 

“Call me if you need anything.  I’m so sorry, my love.”

 

“Ti amo, mamma.”

 

“Ti amo, bambino.”

 

She hangs up, and Tony pockets his phone before scrubbing a hand over his face.  “Va bene,” he whispers to himself, “Va bene.  Dai, si può fare questo.(Come on, you can do this.)”  He takes another steadying breath, turns around, and makes his way back to Steve.

 

When he opens the door to his room, Steve is still sitting there.  “I fucked up,” he says as soon as he sees Tony.

 

“I love you,” Tony says, and he can’t stop them, he can’t stop his tears from falling, “I fucking love you, but you—you made me fucking _sick_.  I was raped, Steve, and you thought it was a good idea to fucking _kiss_ someone to get back at them?  Do you know what that is?  That’s the exact same fucking thing.  _What the fuck were you thinking_?” his voice pitches in volume, and he knows they’ll probably get a noise warning, but he doesn’t care, he needs to let this out, “What the fuck is your problem?  I may create a hostile environment sometimes, but I am not the fucking reason you cheat on someone.  You shove all that back at yourself and admit that you kissed Alex because you wanted to.  I don’t care if you wanted to hurt him, that’s not why you kissed him, and if it is, if it really fucking is, this is _over_ , and I will report you for sexual harassment.”

 

“I kissed him because I wanted to,” Steve says, “I wanted him to know my anger intimately.  I watched Josh blow him the other night at a party.  I watched two guys fuck on our floor because I was so angry with you for leaving me when I needed you.  I’m a fucking mess right now, Tony.”

 

“I left you because this isn’t a healthy environment for me right now.  I get that you need help, and I know this is fucking selfish, but I can’t be your rock.  Steve, I can’t even be my own rock.  I’m an _addict_ , and being around that shit is only going to make it worse.  What’s it going to take, another fucking heart attack before you get that?  If you want to stay on this path, find someone else.”

 

Steve is quiet for a long moment before he says, “Can you reset my shoulder?”

 

“I won’t lie,” Tony says, coming across the room, “You being in pain brings a small amount of joy to me right now.”  He does it quickly, doesn’t give Steve time to think about it, and his shout snaps something in Tony.  “You suck,” he mutters before he kisses him, and Steve tastes like blood and sweat and bile, but it’s _Steve_ , and he’s fucking addicted to him.

 

“I’m done,” Steve lets the words ghost out over Tony’s lips, and Tony swallows them down before kissing him again, a little harder this time, licking into his mouth and sighing when Steve’s hands curl around his thighs, pulls him close, and Tony goes, legs spreading before his knees drop on either side of him, settling in Steve’s lap as his fingers thread through his hair.

 

Tony relearns the shape of Steve’s mouth until it tastes like home.

 

Finally, though, he pulls away with a soft noise and says, “You look like shit.”

 

“What now?” Steve asks.

 

“Now, we’re going to take a shower, and then we’re going to curl up and take a nap.  When we wake up, we’re going to do yoga, get Bruce and Betty for dinner, and we’re going to have a conversation that’s likely not going to be all that fun, but we’re going to get through it.  Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, and it is.

 

——

 

Their conversation isn’t fun.  Steve swears to himself he isn’t going to cry, isn’t going to put Tony through that guilt, but every time he tries to talk about Joshua, he thinks about Tony being held down, being fucked into _their_ bed, crying out for help with no one to hear, and it leaves him in tears.  He swallows down his sobs until they’re aching inside of him, shaking his ribs, and he lets them out without meaning to, curling in on himself, and Tony’s there to pick up the pieces.

 

They hash it out for a couple hours, keeping their voices low for much of it, save for a small spat in the middle when Steve starts to flip out, and Tony shuts him down.  In the end, though, they’re exhausted and overwhelmed, so they curl up and go to sleep.

 

When Saturday finally rolls around, it feels like something new, something that’s healed some of the cracks in Tony’s soul, and when he stretches, Steve is there next to him, his fingers finding solid, warm flesh, and it makes him smile.

 

“Morning,” he murmurs, turning into him and pressing a kiss against his cotton chest.

 

“Good morning,” Steve says around a yawn before his arms are sliding around Tony, and they lie like that for a while, just lounging, until Tony’s phone starts ringing.

 

“Balls,” Tony mutters before he pushes against Steve and reaches over to Steve’s desk, glancing at his phone before he answers, “Hello?”

 

“Antonio,” Natalia says thickly, “I just got a call from Pietro, wanted to know if tonight’s surprise was still on.”

 

“You still have no idea what it is?”

 

“No, but he said it involves glitter.”

 

“Oh, I’m starting to like him more and more.  Hang on.”  He lowers the phone and looks down at Steve.  “You up for body glitter and dancing?  Pietro invited Nat and I to some surprise craziness.”

 

“Do you think that’s the best thing right now?” Steve asks, frowning.

 

“Do you think you’re going to have an issue with it?” Tony responds, quirking an eyebrow, “You’re in this situation because you chose to be, not because you’re drowning in it.  We won’t go if you’re nervous, though.  I get it.”

 

“No, I want to go, just—can you keep an eye on me?”

 

“Of course,” Tony says, leaning down to kiss him briefly before he’s back to Natalia, “Yeah, we’re in.  Any specific time?”

 

“He said we had to be at his by three.”

 

“Intriguing.  Okay, I’ll see you, then.”

 

He hangs up with Natalia, and then he taps into his messages and sees it, _I landed in Russia.  I’m on my way to the hospital.  I’ll keep you updated._

With everything, he forgot.  Panic starts to leak through him, ice through his veins as his eyes dart to the next message, _He was in surgery for three hours.  He’s in the ICU right now.  Bambino, hanno detto le sue probabilità non erano buone._ _(They said his odds weren’t good.)_

“Steve,” Tony whispers, sitting upright as he starts to read the final one, _He just went into cardiac arrest.  I don’t know what to do.  Tony, I need you._

He’s already thumbing into his favorites to find Maria as Steve sits, brow creased in worry.  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

 

The phone rings and rings and rings and, “Bambino,” Maria sobs.

 

“Mamma, cosa sta succedendo?  Sta bene?(What’s going on?  Is he okay?)”

 

“He’s still in the ICU, but they think he’s almost out of the woods.  His heart is weak.”

 

“Where was he shot?” Tony asks, and Steve’s jaw drops.

 

“In the chest,” Maria says, her voice hoarse, “It was so close, they almost—they almost couldn’t save him.  Tony, I don’t—I wish you were here.”

 

“Mamma, I’m so sorry.  I can—I can come, if you need me to.”

 

“No,” Maria says quickly, composing herself, “You’re not flying into this abysmal country, and your father is never coming back.”

 

“Mamma,” Tony murmurs, and the words get stuck in his throat, choking him as he tries to force them out, but they’re not true, they can’t be true, there’s no universe where he’s ever felt this way about his father, he _hates_ him, damn it, “Non posso perdere.(I can’t lose him.)”

 

Maria’s voice breaks on the other line.

 

“Not now,” Tony mumbles, as if clarifying it in English will make it hurt any less, “Not like this, not when he’s—” and it slides into place.

 

He’s staring at the wall across from him, and all he can see is his father holding him against that wall, fingers curled tightly around his neck, laughing at him as he’d begun to panic, as his chest has tightened so badly he couldn’t breathe, as he’d denied everything all over again.

 

This Howard only lasts so long, and he’s sick of this game.  He’s a hypocrite, running from Steve because he’s unhealthy, but continuing to care about his father when he’s abusive because even when he’s hiking with them, he’s still emotionally manipulating them, prying at their walls until they crumble to him, again and again.

 

“Didn’t he miss my birth because he was in Russia?” Tony asks softly.

 

“Yes,” Maria says, and Tony can hear her confusion.

  
“Seems only fitting, then,” Tony says, and one of two things is about to come next when Maria inhales sharply, so Tony takes some of the guilt away from her so she can take the route that she needs to, the only one that will ever save her from Howard, “Don’t forget why I have asthma, mamma.”

 

Maria steels herself, and then, very quietly, she says, “Should I stay?”

 

“Se non lo fai, egli ti ha colpito?(If you don’t, will he hit you?)”

 

Tony knows she doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but she does, “When you were seven, after he had gotten bad again, his father went into the hospital at the same time you were due to be out of school.  I made to leave to get you, and he said that I would either arrive at your school with a bruised face or join him in the hospital.  When I said I was going to pick you up, he hit me so hard, his hand left a bruise, and he dragged me to the hospital.  Zia Ellie picked you up that day.”

 

“Zia Ellie,” Tony says softly, “I don’t even remember what she looks like.”

 

“It’s been a long time since you last saw her,” Maria says, and she sounds sad, “She had a girl a little younger than you, Grace.  Do you remember?”

 

“I do,” Tony says, fondly, smiling, “She was my best friend.”

 

“And your first kiss,” Maria laughs, “Goodness, I couldn’t stop laughing when Grace told us she’d kissed you, and you’d run away to hide.”

 

“I was eight!” Tony tries to defend himself.

 

“That was right before she took Grace away, before—bambino, mi manca essere felice.(I miss being happy.)”

 

“Vai a casa. Trova zia Ellie e Grace, negozio appartamento fino a trovare qualcosa che ci piace, e non guardare indietro. Non ne vale la pena.  (Go home.  Find aunt Ellie and Grace, apartment shop until you find something we’ll like, and don’t look back.  He isn’t worth it.)”

 

“Tu sei, **(You are.)** ” Maria sighs, “I love you, Tony.  I’ll let you know when I’ve made it safely back to Manhattan.”

 

“I love you, too, mamma.  Remember your strength.”

 

When he finally hangs up, Tony feels like he’s been through the ringer.  “Is everything okay?” Steve asks cautiously.

 

“I’m gonna need therapy when all this is over,” Tony mumbles, and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Steve laugh so hard.

 

——

 

When they get to Pietro’s, it’s nothing that Tony and Steve ever expected.  Tony knocks, and Pietro’s there in a flash, pulling the door open.  “Excellent, everyone’s here, then!” he exclaims, herding them inside.  There’s something dark and wonderful leaking through Pietro’s speakers as he closes the door behind them.

 

Natalia is sitting, cross-legged, while Wanda applies makeup to her face, Betty is swaying her hips at a large box, sifting through it, and Bruce is working on his chinstands, body lifting through the air as his toes reach back for his head.

 

“Looks normal to me,” Tony admits, and then Betty turns at his voice, and he blinks.  Her face is covered in what looks like tribal war paint, a curving line of glittering gold dots down the left side of her face, white lines over her right eye, a scattering of thick, dark, shimmering blue lines between her eyebrows in different heights, and a deep red swipe under her right eye.

 

“Oh my god, Tony,” Betty says, her lips parting in a huge grin, “You’re never going to believe this.”

 

On cue, the music switches over, this slow rise in bass and volume that threads through Tony’s veins until he lets out a hard exhale, turns to Pietro, and says, “Shut the fuck up.”

 

“I may have scored a handful of tickets to Kesha’s concert tonight.”

 

And Tony starts dancing.  Steve lets out a burst of laughter, and this great weight he hadn’t realized had been pressing down on his shoulders leaks away until he feels lighter, feels like he won’t have to be careful and make sure he isn’t hurting anyone tonight.

 

Finally, Tony calms, and they get to work preparing.  They go over to Betty while Natalia’s getting her war paint, and they start picking out items, though it’s not long before Steve sits on Pietro’s bed and just watches.  “Come on,” Tony teases, pulling out a pair of silver, glittery pants and shaking them at Steve, “You’re really not going to dress up?”

 

“I think that’s more your forte,” Steve says, smiling lightly, and when Tony pouts at him, “Maybe.  What are you wearing?”

 

Tony tosses the pants at him and keeps searching.  He finally emerges with a loose fitting black shirt that’s has residue glitter on it, shrugging.  “I put some relatively normal stuff in there,” Wanda says, glancing over her shoulder, “Figured the Steves and Bruces of the world would appreciate it.”

 

“We do,” Bruce chimes in where he’s stretching out his back.  “However,” he continues as he stands and reaches for the ceiling, “I’m putting myself in Tony’s hands tonight.”

 

“Fuck yeah!” Tony exclaims, doing a little dance before he keeps looking.

 

By seven, they’re done.  Tony’s dressed in his tight, silver pants, black shirt hanging loosely around him, more glitter added thanks to Wanda, and he has a shaded red stripe that reaches from ear to ear, covering his eyes, as well as black squares down the center of his face, and glitter in his wild hair.  He managed to convince Steve to at least put on war paint, and so he’s got a white triangle bridging his eyebrows and a smear of silver glitter over his left eye and cheek.  Betty and Bruce, however, are a story all of their own, in matching leather pants—which Tony is desperate to know how Bruce got into—and shirts that compliment each other, Betty in a cropped gold fringe top and Bruce in a loose fitting black t-shirt smeared with gold paint.  Bruce has war paint, as well, two thumbed lines of gold beneath his eyes and back squares down the right side of his face, curving around his jaw and down his throat.  Natalia is decked out in black and red, in tight, striped pants and a lace red top over her black bra, her eyes shaded in black with red dots that extend from her lower lip to her throat.  Wanda is wearing a deep purple, sequined bando, tight, metallic black pants, and body glitter, her right eye spotted with gold and deep, black wings on both eyes.  Pietro’s gone all out with half his face gold, the other half black, though it’s split diagonally, and he’s wearing neon green pants with a tight, neon orange shirt, both of which have severe tears in them.

 

The concert is an hour away, and when they get there, in the heart of New York, they’re buzzing with energy.  Pietro finds somewhere to park, and though they have to walk a ways, Tony practically bounces out of the car.  “It’s Kesha, bitches!” he screams to the city as they all pile out of Pietro’s car.

 

His energy leaks out and surges through Steve until he’s leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Tony, pressing a lingering kiss to his neck.  Tony hums, leaning back into Steve, into his warmth, surrounding himself in his scent as he closes his eyes and tips his head back, sliding along Steve’s shoulder until he kisses him.

 

They make their way through the streets of New York until they reach the venue, and there’s a massive crowd winding their way down the street and around the corner, this mess of sequins and glitter and color.  Pietro lets out this wild noise, which echoes around them as he receives several crazed calls in return.  He rushes Tony, who screeches and tips away from him, sending Pietro cackling as he falls into an easy backbend.

 

“Stop showing off,” Steve says, tickling Tony on his way by, and he looks back in time to see Tony make a face at him before he walks his feet in and kicks up, holding a handstand for a few seconds before he drops back down onto his feet and jogs after them.  Steve watches his body move, feels something hot slide through him, and he holds out a hand, smiling as Tony takes his hand, lacing their fingers tightly before he leans up, and Steve kisses him, hard and slow.

 

They’re in line long enough that Tony starts showing off again, working through handstand variations until Betty’s joining him, and Bruce kicks back, leaning against Steve.  “I’m stealing your warmth,” he says, and Steve just laughs softly and drops an arm around his shoulders.

 

When they finally get inside, Tony’s feeling jittery, and he can’t stop wiggling, even when they’ve gone through security and found a place on the floor in the venue.  The opening acts are fun, though, when the lights finally go down for Kesha, Tony lets out a roar and jumps straight up in the air.  She comes out in an explosion of glitter and strobe lights, and the party starts the second the first note sings through the swell of bodies.

 

Steve finds Tony and holds on, and Tony melts into him, arms sliding up along his body and hooking around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as Steve’s hands rest warm against his stomach, pressing in against him as they dance, voice roaring along as she sings, bodies fused together until Steve can’t remember where he ends.

 

Tony misses this, music tearing through him until he’s breathing sound, and he closes his eyes as he sinks in against Steve, lets himself slide low until he’s coming back up, and he opens his eyes to Kesha, this gorgeous woman, dancing like she was meant to party.

 

One song bleeds into the next, this wild thud of sound thrumming around them until Tony feels like he most explode with it, and he screams his joy, untangling from Steve so he can dance freely, feet pounding against the ground as he moves, feels the bodies around him surge and swell.  Thunder beats inside his chest.

 

Someone grabs him, tries to lure him in, but all he has to do is lean back, and Steve is there, taking one hip in hand and turning him, chest thudding against Tony’s until he’s dipping his head down, and Tony meets him there, mouth brushing over his, breath whispering out as he drinks Steve in, and then he leans up, presses onto his toes, and he kisses him for what feels like the first time in too many lives.  He holds him there, relearns the shape of his mouth, swallows down the taste of him, feels the curve of his tongue as Steve reaches for him, fingers printing lines on his skin as he grounds himself, hands against Tony’s bare arms.

 

“Tony,” he groans softly, leaning their foreheads together, “God, I missed you.”

 

“Steve,” is all he has time to say before he needs to kiss him again, and this burst of sound shakes through to their cores right before the track switches, and there it is, this little whistle calling from some corner of the world, and Tony can’t stop laughing.

 

“Do you remember this song?” he says before it gets loud.

 

“I wanted to devour you,” Steve says, his eyes dark and wanting, and Tony molds them together, kisses Steve until they’re both gasping for breath.  When Tony pulls away, turns in his arms so that he can see his queen again, Steve’s hot mouth traces the shell of his ear before he says, “I want to now.”

 

Tony feels his hands on him, leaving scorch marks across his body as he touches him, sears his skin into Tony’s bones and begs him not to implode.  Steve leaves a wet trail down his neck, open-mouthed kisses that leave him trembling until he wants nothing more than Steve inside him, around him, and Tony grabs at his hands, gets rid of Steve’s cautiousness with a quick flick of each wrist, sending one hand down to his groin, the other against his sternum.  Steve knows what he wants, and Tony groans, head tipping back as Steve presses hard against his chest, holds him tight against Tony even as his fingers curl together over his hard cock, the heel of his palm rubbing lightly.

 

It’s not until the song fades away into another that they finally break away from each other, and Tony gives Steve one fleeting glance that lets him know they’re not giving up these amazing spots in the crowd, and Steve just laughs and presses one last, hot kiss against his jaw before he turns his attention back to Kesha.

 

She puts on a show like Tony wishes he could, and when the last note finally drops, he thinks he might have to sleep for a week.  As they’re heading out, Pietro says, his voice hoarse, but his grin wide, “Betcha we could get backstage if you flashed that fancy Stark last name.”

 

Tony guffaws, “My name means nothing here.  You think my dad would be caught dead in a place like this?  I gotta piss before we go.”

 

“Pee party!” Pietro yells, and they all head off for the bathrooms.

 

“Holy fuck, there’s a line for the men’s room,” Betty gapes as her, Wanda, and Natalia get in line.

 

The boys stand together, and Tony thinks he might have to kill Steve.  He keeps tracing his fingers lightly over the bare skin at the nape of Tony’s neck and down to his spine before the shirt begins, and it’s making heat thunder through his veins.

 

When they finally get in, Betty, Wanda, and Natalia are still far back in their line, and Pietro makes awful mocking noises at his sister until Bruce backhands him, and then he’s just whining as they head into the bathroom.  Tony heads for a stall in the farthest row, and he’s about to reach for the door when he’s crowded in, and he feels Steve a second before he panics.  The door crashes shut behind them, Steve fumbles with the lock, and Tony’s already on him, kissing him as Steve starts undoing his jeans.

 

“Get those fucking pants off,” he growls against Tony’s jaw before he’s biting down to his neck until he can reach his shoulder, and Tony hurries to do as he’s told, shimmying out of them until he can force them off one foot, yanking his shirt off after, and then Steve’s lifting his fingers, and Tony sucks on them, looking up at Steve with a violent hunger in his gaze.

 

“Steve,” he whispers as he pulls his fingers out, and then Steve’s kissing him softly, bringing them down as he reaches behind Tony, rubs his index finger gently against his entrance before he eases his way in, and Tony has to lick into Steve’s mouth, or he might scream.

 

Steve takes his time, makes sure Tony is fucking _begging_ , his mouth leaving a searing, whimpering path from his mouth to his ear, and then he reaches for Tony’s thighs, feels him tense, and lifts him into the air.  “Steve,” Tony says again when his back hits the door, and Steve holds his gaze as he shifts him down, spreads his feet so he can hold his balance with Tony in the air, and he kisses him as the head of his cock presses lightly against Tony.

 

“I love you,” he presses the words into his mouth before he slides inside, and Tony breaks away from him with a sharp gasp, biting his lip as one of his hands comes up to curl around the top of the door, knuckles going white with the effort not to respond aloud.

 

Steve’s not going to last long, and judging from the way Tony’s already trembling, neither is he.  He can feel every nerve in his body singing to explode, and Tony’s heat is too much, he needs to pull out, inhale deeply, and when he rolls his hips back toward him, Tony’s back bows off the door, and then it’s a race.

 

He lets his hips snap in quickly, finds a fast, hard rhythm he knows Tony loves, and then he carefully takes one of his hands from around Tony and fists it between them, fingers curling tightly around his cock as he jerks him at half the pace, grinning when a soft, restrained whine sneaks out of Tony.  As he slides up, he presses his thumb over the head of Tony’s cock, kisses him as something tries to burst from him, and tries to swallow his own noises down as he feels heat pool in his belly.

 

“Tony, _fuck_ ,” Steve groans into his neck, his wrist flicking faster as he chases his orgasm, tries not to think about what the people walking by must think, and then Tony’s ass tightens, one knee actually lifting, hitting Steve’s upper arm, and his head thuds back against the door right before he comes, shaking as Steve fucks into him, follows him over the edge.

 

They come down together, Tony’s whole body trembling as Steve gasps for breath.

 

“I love you,” Tony says finally, and Steve leans back to look at him, smiling.

 

“Ready?” he asks, and Tony nods.

 

He lets him down gently, and Tony groans, leaning back against the door.  Steve gets some toilet paper to clean them up, and then they’re heading out after taking turns peeing.

 

When they get out of the bathroom, Pietro and Wanda start cackling as Bruce quirks an eyebrow at Betty’s grin, and Natalia just smirks at them.  “Told you they fucked,” Pietro says finally, and Tony just erupts in laughter.  When they’ve calmed enough, they all head out and make for the nearest McDonald’s, starving after so long dancing.

 

They order, wait for their food, and it’s a night none of them will ever forget.

 

——

 

When they get home, Tony is exhausted and Steve can’t stop yawning, but Tony doesn’t get into bed with him, instead kisses him quiet, whispers, “I’ll be back before you know I’ve been gone too long, I promise,” and heads out.

 

He makes his way down the hall and around the corner to the stairs to the back entrance, and then he bundles up before pushing open the door and dropping down onto the stoop there.  He lights a cigarette as his phone rings, waiting for Maria to pick up.

 

When she finally does, she sounds as tired as Tony feels, “Buona sera, cara.  Come è stato il vostro concerto?  **(Good evening, darling.  How was your concert?)** ”

 

“Incredibile.  Ci siamo divertiti così tanto.  Steve e io - ci si sente come le cose sono finalmente di nuovo meglio.  Come è papà?  **(Amazing.  We had so much fun.  Steve and I--it feels like things are finally better again.  How’s dad?)** ”

 

“Stabile, **(Stable.)** ” Maria says with a sigh, “Furioso. **(Furious.)** ”

 

Tony is silent for a long moment before he says, “I’m sorry, mamma.  I’m sorry he’s put us through this, that though I’m worried about him, I don’t think my life would change much if he wasn’t there.”

 

“Darling,” Maria sighs again, “You wouldn’t be my Tony without him.  Of course your life would change.  He’s your _father_ , and no amount of abuse is ever going to change that.”

 

“You sound like a telenovela.”

 

Maria laughs, clear and quiet, and it makes Tony’s heart ache.  “My mamma used to watch this ridiculous show, and I would always laugh at her when I was younger until, one day, without realizing, I was rushing to the TV at three o’clock every afternoon after school, and my mamma would just laugh and laugh.”

 

“You never watched them,” Tony says.

 

“I was too busy biting your toes,” Maria says, and it’s Tony’s turn to laugh.

 

This time, when they fall silent, it’s for long enough, Tony wonders if his mother has fallen asleep, and he digs his cigarette against the ground before he says, “Mamma?”

 

“What am I going to do without him?” Maria whispers, and she’s crying.

 

“Mamma,” Tony murmurs, closing his eyes, “You are stronger without him.”

 

But nothing he can say will quell Maria’s fears, and though Tony tries, his words drift away as he realizes, suddenly, that Maria knew a life before Howard.  She knew what it was like to be happy, and he took that from her.

 

“You will always have me,” he says finally, and he can almost feel her smile.

 

“My love,” she says tiredly, “I wish you were here.”

 

Tony bites his lip, swallowing tears.  “I miss you,” he whispers, and he knows it doesn’t make sense because he was just home, but he misses his _mamma_ , not Maria, not the woman she is with Howard around.  “Can you come up tomorrow?” he asks.

 

“I’ll be there in time for lunch,” she says, and Tony feels a little lighter when he stands.

 

“It’s cold out,” he says.

 

“Go to bed, Tony,” Maria says before she yawns, “Curl up with your love and dream of a better time.”

 

“I love you, mamma.”

 

“And I love you, bambino.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry these are taking so long to post, but I do most of my writing on my days off, and those are few and far between. Just remember, I’m going on vacation in exactly seven days, and of those nine days off, I’ll be with Erin for six of them, so I’m hoping I’ll get a _ton_ of writing done. But hey, at least I’m posting, right?
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	47. Chapter 47

Sunlight leaks through the part in the curtains, pouring through their room in wide strips of golden warmth, and Tony stretches under its lingering touch, smiling as Steve’s arms curl a little tighter around him, pull him back in close.

 

“Good morning,” he mumbles, wrapping around Tony until their legs are tangled together, and all he can smell is him, “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Better with you,” Tony whispers before he’s looking for Steve’s mouth, kissing him softly.

 

They find their way back together in a final act of love, and after, when Tony is warm and happy, Steve’s breath fanning over his skin, he feels something like certainty settling in him.  He pushes up onto his elbows, looks up at Steve, and says, “I love you.”

 

Steve stares back at him, one hand resting against his arm as his thumb traces small, slow circles.  “I love you, too,” he says, smiling, “I’m happier with you.”

 

“Careful, bordering on codependency,” Tony teases, and Steve retaliates with tickling.

 

When they’ve finished—when Tony is on the floor whimpering about broken ribs, and Steve is laughing so hard, tears are leaking down his face—they head for the showers, clean up from last night, and get ready for the day.  Tony forgets about Maria until they’re leaving the hall, Betty and Bruce in tow, and there she is, stepping out of her car as the door closes behind them, and Tony starts running.

 

Maria catches him, staggers back a step at the force of his embrace, and then wraps her arms around him, lowering her face to kiss his cheek and then rest it against his shoulder.  “He’s coming home,” she whispers, and Tony almost breaks.

 

“Mamma—”

 

“I know,” Maria says before he can say anymore, “I know, bambino, I know.  It’s okay.  Mamma’s here.”  He holds onto her for a few moments longer before stepping back, and Maria lifts her hands to wipe under his eyes, smiling.  “Hush now,” she says before leaning up to kiss his forehead, “Everything is okay.  Are you off for lunch?  Let me take you out somewhere, all of you.”  She turns as Steve, Betty, and Bruce are approaching, and continues, “No protests.  Come now.”

 

Though they do try to protest, Maria’s already heading back into her car, and Tony just laughs, climbing into the passenger seat and waiting for the rest to join.  They end up having a lovely lunch, and, when they return, Tony and Maria set out on a walk that lasts several hours, though Steve can taste the evidence of a chai latte later when he tries to kiss away Tony’s tears.

 

He’s not certain what’s happened, but Tony’s face when Maria pulls away is what scares Steve.

 

“Whatever it is,” he whispers as Tony cries into his chest, and he kisses his mess of hair, “We’ll get through it together.”

 

——

 

The last dredges of their bitter winter come and go, and before anyone notices, spring has arrived, and with it, almost nonexistent drifts of snow.  The day before spring break, Tony wakes surrounded by Steve’s warmth, his arms wrapped loosely around him, nose pressed into the back of Tony’s neck.  He misses this—this quiet moment before their day starts, with the sun drifting through their curtains, splaying golden heat across their bodies, Steve solid and secure behind him.  He misses feeling loved.

 

“Why do you think so loud?” Steve’s breath whispers across his spine, fanning out to touch his shoulders lightly.

 

“Genius status tends to do that,” Tony says, grinning, “Cogs spin a little quicker.”

 

“I don’t think it’s the cogs.”

 

“Wheels, whatever.”

 

“Colloquial.”

 

“Oh, wow!” Tony exclaims, shoving back with one shoulder so Steve pivots away before he rolls and presses up onto his hands, “What an ass.  Colloquial—adjective.  Characteristic of or appropriate to ordinary or familiar conversation rather than formal speech or writing; informal.  Origin—1745-1755.”

 

“Just keeping those cogs spinning,” Steve says, smiling up at him, and Tony makes an undignified noise and leans down, kissing him softly.

 

Steve’s mouth fits easily against his own, and he feels himself melting back into him, wanting to fuse every one of his nerve endings with Steve’s until all he can feel is the electricity running between them.

 

“Steve,” he whispers, legs untangling from the sheets as he brings one up, settles it on Steve’s other side.  One of Steve’s hands skims up his arm, curls around his upper arm, and pulls him closer until he can get his other arm around him, presses one hand in against the middle of his back.

 

Tony relearns the shape of his mouth, the taste of his tongue curling around Tony’s, and he sighs when Steve bites at his bottom lip as he’s drawing away, teeth scraping over it.  “Tony,” he murmurs, kissing down to his jaw, and Tony tilts his head back, lets Steve mouth down his neck until he’s biting at the nape of his neck, and then he cants his hips down, groans softly when he feels Steve’s half-hard cock.

 

He pulls away from Steve, finds his mouth, and kisses him like he’s been starved, and Steve’s moan hums through him and out into Tony, traps him there until he doesn’t want to breathe unless he’s sharing it with him.

 

He drops to his elbows, one hand moving up to thread through Steve’s blonde hair, fingers curling tightly, nails scraping against his scalp as he kisses back to Steve’s ear and nips lightly at his jaw there.  “Too many clothes,” he says hotly, and Steve responds by sliding a hand beneath his boxers, palming his bare ass.

 

He lets out a sharp exhale, temple pressing against Steve’s as his hand slides over, fingers brushing against him teasingly.  “Lube,” he presses the word against Tony’s cheek.

 

Tony pushes up onto his hands and reaches over for Steve’s desk, yanking open drawers until he finds it, and he kisses Steve on his return without meaning to.  Somehow, Steve gets the lube from him, but Tony needs to kiss him, needs to fuse them together, and he doesn’t notice the cap coming off until Steve’s hand has returned, and his fingers are cool and wet.

 

“Is that— _fuuuuck_ ,” Tony groans, forehead thudding against his shoulder as he slides a finger in, the mint igniting a fire in Tony’s blood.

 

Steve stretches him slowly, takes his time relearning Tony’s ass, the tight heat of it, and his cock is straining against his briefs when Tony lifts onto his knees, head going back as a shiver rakes down his spine, and Steve stretches his fingers, rubs over his prostate again, grins when Tony whines, leaning farther back, holding onto Steve with one hand.

 

He pulls his fingers out, nudges at Tony when he whines again, and then they’re hurrying out of their underwear and shirts, Tony fighting briefly with the blankets until he throws them toward the end of the bed, and he starts to make his way back onto his knees, but Steve is already there, pressing him down into the bed.

 

Tony’s legs go out wide, bent at the knees, easing back toward the bed, and Steve grins.  “Are you stretching?” he asks, running a hand over one of his thighs, grin widening when Tony tries to respond and it shatters into a moan when Steve fists a hand over his cock, gives him a few lazy tugs.

 

“Use your fucking mouth if you’re gonna tease, shoulders,” Tony says, looking up at him from under heavy lashes.

 

So Steve does.  He leans down, kissing his knee, and Tony feels like he might burst as Steve traces a hot, wet line toward his cock, finally gets there and, for once, doesn’t dance around, but instead takes his dick in his mouth and sucks once, hard, at the head before he takes him in further.

 

Tony’s in fucking heaven as he fists a hand in Steve’s hair, tries not to let his hips buck up toward him, but he can’t remember the last time he got head, and it’s fucking _wonderful_.

 

“Steve, Steve,” he pants, pulling him when he feels heat licking down his spine, “Fuck, not like that.  I wanna come with you inside me.”

 

“Afterward,” Steve says, leaning back down.

 

“Steve,” he groans, “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

 

“Good,” Steve says, and then he’s swatting Tony’s hand away and taking his cock back in his mouth.

 

“Shit,” Tony says, and then he’s dissolving into a mess as Steve’s fingers skim over his ass before they’re sliding in, fucking into him as he licks up Tony’s cock, flattening his tongue over the head.  “Jesus fucking— _Steve_ ,” he groans, fingers tightening in the sheets as his other hand finds Steve’s hair again, refraining from directing him because he’s doing a hell of a job on his own.

 

He pulls off and mouths down, pays a little attention to Tony’s balls, and then he’s biting his hip quickly before he returns, and it’s only a few, slow pulls later before Tony’s pulling at his hair, trying to warn him as fire pools in his belly, threatens to tip him over, and Steve just takes him in as far as he can and hollows his cheeks, pulls Tony right over until he’s coming with a low, trembling groan.

 

Steve doesn’t give him time to recover.  As his fingers come out, he works his way back up Tony’s cock, swallowing him down until he finally releases him, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and crawls up Tony’s body to kiss him.

 

They kiss lazily, slowly, easily, like they were made to memorize the taste of each other’s mouths.  When Steve finally pulls back, Tony is gasping for air, and Steve wants nothing more than to slide inside and fuck him senseless, but he just presses his hard, aching cock against his hip and rests lightly against him, head tucked away in his neck.

 

“Fuck,” Tony manages, arms coming around Steve, holding him there, “Just—fuck, just gimme a minute, that was— _Steve_.”

 

“Take your time,” Steve teases, and Tony tries to bite his jaw, but he can’t lift his head, so he just lies there, and though his cock doesn’t respond, he can feel his stomach twisting as Steve shifts, the press of his dick clear against Tony’s stomach.

 

“Just let me—” and he tries to move, but Steve hushes him by kissing him.

 

“I want to make love to you,” he whispers against his lips, “I can wait.”

 

“Okay,” Tony murmurs, even though he can feel something like sleep crashing over him.

 

He doesn’t mean to, but he dozes off, lets himself get heavy and warm, and he thinks it’s possible Steve does the same because he’s still lying on top of him when Tony blinks awake, and Steve’s breathing is soft and slow.

 

He’s still hard, but Tony feels a little trapped, so he pushes at him until Steve rolls off, startles awake with a quiet noise, and looks over at Tony.  “Hey,” Tony says softly, kissing him before he reaches for the lube, slicks his fingers, and drops a knee on either side of Steve.

 

He doesn’t need to stretch much, just enough to open himself up again, and then he’s giving Steve’s cock a few, quick strokes, grinning as his eyes flutter shut, head tipping back because Tony knows just how to get him going, knows every flick of his wrist that he likes best.

 

When he starts to lower himself down, the head of Steve’s cock pressing against his entrance, Steve looks down the plane of his body at him, mouth open in a hard pant, lips wet and red and screaming for Tony, and he doesn’t mean to go fast, but he needs to kiss him, _damn it_ , and his hips come down against Steve’s, cock sliding inside him, and he means to lean forward and kiss him, but his spine curls, back arching as he his ass comes flush with Steve’s hips.

 

“Fuck,” Steve groans quietly, and Tony looks back down at him, finds his fingers fisting in the sheets, muscles straining in an effort not to move, so Tony moves for him.  He rolls his hips slowly, finding a good rhythm until he lifts up onto his knees, higher and higher until Steve’s whining for him, and he comes back down.

 

He moves like this, fucking down onto Steve until he can tell that he’s going out of his mind, and he leans down against him, winds his arms around him, and Steve just grins and kisses his jaw before his thighs tighten, and he flips them, one arm wound tightly around Tony’s back to hold him, suspended for a moment before he lets him down, and then he’s leaning up onto his knees, hands running down Tony’s body until he can press them against the insides of his thighs, spread his hips wide.

 

“Shit, Steve,” Tony says, back curling a little, “You—” he cuts off with a high cry as Steve slides out and jerks his hips back in fast, sending a tremor of hunger through Tony’s body.

 

“God,” Steve groans, nails raking over his thighs, “Your ass is so fucking _hot_.”

 

“I know,” Tony gasps out, “You gonna fuck me or not, muscles?”

 

It sounds like a challenge, and Steve takes it, holds Tony’s hips open wide as he fucks into him, quick, sharp snaps of his hips until Tony’s pressing one leg up, grabbing at Steve, and Steve lets himself be moved, hooks one of Tony’s knees over his elbow as he comes forward to kiss him, presses his knee in against his shoulder, and Tony groans as he slides out, leaving only the head of his cock inside.

 

“I want you to come on my cock alone,” Steve presses the words into his mouth.

 

“Fuck,” Tony pants, “Okay.”

 

Steve slides back in slowly, and Tony shifts against him as his cock passes over his prostate.  “No problem,” Tony says as he struggles to catch his breath, and Steve actually laughs, this quiet, little thing that triggers a laugh in Tony, and they have a moment of pure joy, limbs tangled, bodies trembling as they laugh over absolutely nothing.

 

“I love you,” Tony says when they finally come down, and Steve lifts his head to kiss him.

 

“I love you,” he says in response, and that’s how they make love.

 

They move together, a slow build into something more, something hungry and adoring all at once, and when Tony finally comes, again, it’s with a trembling cry that threatens to break into a scream until Steve kisses him, swallows his noises down even as he trips over the edge and clings to Tony.

 

“Hey,” Steve says when he finally picks his head up, and Tony smiles.

 

“Hey,” he says softly, and then Steve leans up, holds onto Tony’s hips as he pulls out, sighs at the sound of quiet loss Tony makes when Steve sets him back down on the bed, and then he kisses it away, fills him with something better.

 

“It’s lunchtime!” a loud voice sings as the door swings open.

 

“Oh, they’re naked,” Betty says happily, “That’s always a good sign.”

 

“I’m still hungry,” Bruce says, looking over at them.

 

Tony starts cackling, so Steve hangs his head in defeat.

 

“Yeah, I’d tap that,” Betty says quietly, “I mean—”

 

“That _ass_ ,” Bruce sighs.

 

“Guys!” Tony yells, trying not to laugh because Steve is just burrowing deeper.

 

“Be quiet, we’re admiring your boyfriend,” Betty says, leaning against Bruce.

 

“Your friends are weird,” Steve whispers.

 

“They’re so totally your friends, too,” Tony says before he starts sliding out from under Steve, who moves only when the door has closed.

 

They clean up, and get dressed, throwing clothes at each other as they go.  Tony ends up in tight jeans, black boots, an old Zeppelin long sleeve shirt, and one of Steve’s sweatshirts while Steve tries to pull on a pair of loose jeans only to get tighter ones chucked at him as Tony’s passing him, and he sighs, but tugs those on, followed by a grey shirt under his blue and green plaid.

 

“Don’t ever shave your beard,” Tony says as he comes back over with a fistful of pills and leans up to kiss Steve, “You look so hot as a lumberjack.”

 

“Oh, fuck off,” Steve grumbles, so Tony slaps his butt as he’s reaching around him for his water.  “That’s a lot,” Steve observes, and Tony shrugs one shoulder, taking them one at a time.  He shakes a hand at his head as he’s swallowing, and Steve frowns.  He leans forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Tony’s forehead.  “What’s wrong?” he asks as Tony finally swallows the last of them.

 

“Just feeling off,” Tony says, “No big deal.”

 

“Tony.”

 

“It was just Xanax and Ativan, Steve, I’m fine.”

 

“Fine enough to be feeling low?” Steve asks as Tony turns away.

 

“It’s nothing to do with you,” Tony says as he grabs a hat before opening the door, “Literally just comes and goes.  I’m happy,” he tries to assure him, “I am, but I can feel it, this little—” he twists his fingers, trying to explain it.

 

“This little ant digging inside your skull,” Bruce supplies.

 

“Exactly,” Tony says, “Just trying to be proactive.  Come on, I could eat a horse.”

 

“Well, looks like you’d worked up quite the appetite,” Betty teases, bumping shoulders with him as she steps away from Bruce, and they all head out.

 

Tony fakes a laugh, so Betty sticks out her tongue, and Tony tries to touch it with his, but Bruce slides in between them and flicks Tony.  “None of that,” he says, and Tony just shrugs and stops walking until Steve’s fingers tangle with his, and they walk away together, holding on tightly to each other.

 

——

 

After lunch, they start packing, and halfway through, Tony comes out of the closet with a bag of hash and grins.  “Stephen,” he says.

 

“Did you just call me—oh.”

 

“Don’t protest.”

 

“Fuck no, that sounds like a fantastic idea,” Steve says, and drops his sketchbook back onto his desk.

 

He climbs onto their bed, and Tony’s not far behind him, hash and rolling paper in hand.  Once settled, he rolls them a blunt each, stretches out until he’s comfortable, and then they light up.

 

They spend the afternoon getting baked—trying to tell each other stupid stories and dissolving into giggles, messily making out until Tony’s pants end up on the floor, Steve’s fingers wrapped around his dick, and they don’t have sex, but miraculously, somehow, they both get off, and, eventually, they think even yoga is a good idea to try while high.  It ends up that Tony crashes to the ground when Steve mistakenly tries to fly him, and then there’s a knock on the door.

 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks as he tries to stop laughing, and though Tony groans, he nods.

 

“I’m staying here,” Tony says defiantly, so Steve kisses him and gets up, going to answer the door.

 

“Dad?” he says when he opens it.

 

“Hey,” Joe says, frowning, “I know I’m a day early, but—I dunno, Steve, things are shit at home, and your mom wanted me to come a day early, and—what’s that smell?  Are you—have you been smoking weed?” he asks suddenly.

 

Steve swallows.  He wants to lie, and he tries to, but, “Yes,” is what comes out.

 

“Wow,” Joe says, nodding slowly, “That’s—okay, just about as great as being home, then.”

 

“What’s going on at home?” Steve asks, “Every time I call, mom says things are fine.”

 

“Yeah, they—they are.  It’s just—”

 

“Dad,” Steve says, stepping to the side so his dad has room to come in.  He waits until his father has walked in before he says, “You can tell me.”

 

“We’ll talk on the way home,” he says, and Steve can’t believe it, but he glances at Tony like he doesn’t want to say whatever it is in front of him.

 

“Hey Joe,” Tony says, and Steve turns to see him getting to his feet, “How’re things?”

 

“Good.  And you?”

 

“Getting there.  I didn’t know Steve was leaving today,” Tony says, and though he tries to mask it, Steve can still hear the hurt in his voice.

 

“Neither did he,” Joe admits, looking around their room, “Have you started packing at all?”

 

“A little, but we—”

 

“Decided to get high instead, right,” Joe says, folding his arms across his chest.  It takes a moment, but he finally lets it out, “You can’t be serious, Stephen.”

 

“Should I leave?” Tony asks.

 

“Oh—no, you’re fine right there,” Joe says, and he actually glares at Tony, “This is mostly your fault anyway.”

 

“Dad,” Steve says, appalled, “What the hell?”

 

“Watch your language,” Joe says, his voice raising in volume a little as he turns back to Steve, “You weren’t like this before college.  You’d never have even thought about marijuana when you were in high school, let alone underage drinking and—god, _three_ separate sexual partners in one year.”

 

“Tony and I—”

 

“Tony and you are a whole different story in itself,” Joe says, “But _this_ —” he gestures to Steve and then to the bag of weed sitting on their bed, “—this is not okay.  This is _not_ going to fly at home.”

 

“Is it Leah?” Steve asks, “I thought things had gotten better.”

 

“Better?  _Better_?”  Joe turns away, and his gaze settles on Tony again.  “Why did you do this to him?”

 

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he shakes his head, chin dropping as he looks away from Joe, and he finally manages to force out, “Have a good break,” before he leaves.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Steve,” Tony says, looking up at him, “It’s okay.  He’s right.  I’ll—I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“No,” Steve says, and his voice is firm, enough that Tony doesn’t move, and Steve hates it, hates that he probably feels like Howard is in the room, drawing all attention to him, commanding Tony to do as he pleases.  “No,” Steve says again, softer this time, and Tony flinches when he steps toward him.  He takes his hand, tugging at him until he moves, and Steve lifts his other hand to his jaw, tips his head up so he can kiss his mess of hair.  “I love you,” he whispers, “If you want to leave because you’re uncomfortable, I get it, but don’t leave because you think you have to.  He’s not right.”  Steve turns toward his dad, “Whatever is going on, whatever Leah has done, whatever is happening at home, all of it doesn’t equate to treating Tony like that, and I am shocked that anything going on has any relation to him whatsoever.  Yes, Tony has changed my life and myself, but this—drinking and smoking, do you honestly think this didn’t happen in high school?”

 

It takes a second, but then Joe says, “I’m sorry, Tony.  I—they never stop yelling.”

 

“Yeah, I’m intimately familiar with that dynamic.  Still, I’m going to leave for a bit, call my mamma, see how she’s doing.  I’ll be back before you leave,” he promises to Steve before he heads out.

 

When he’s gone, Steve turns to his dad and tries to speak, but his dad beats him to it, “I can’t believe you.”

 

“Me?” Steve says, jaw dropping open, “You can’t believe _me_?  You just told my boyfriend that Leah’s shit is his fault.”

 

“Steve—”

 

“That’s wrong on so many levels.”

 

Joe just sighs and goes to sit on Steve’s bed, waiting while he packs quickly.  They don’t speak until Steve’s finished packing, and by then, Tony has returned, and he doesn’t start packing, so Steve asks, “Are you still going home tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, rolling out his yoga mat after he changes, “I’m gonna work on a few essays tonight so I don’t have to worry about them tonight, and then probably convince Betty to build a fort so we can annoy Bruce.”

 

“Sounds like fun,” Steve says, trying for a smile, and Tony just jumps into a handstand and makes a goofy face at him, which does actually produce a smile.

 

And that’s how his night goes.  Steve leaves a few minutes later, his father going ahead of him so he can say goodbye and apologize to Tony, who just shrugs and kisses him.  When he’s gone, he grabs his laptop and notes, and he heads down to the super couple’s room, where he commandeers their bed.  They all work in a silence filled with whatever music is tickling Bruce’s fancy and the occasional grumble, they end up getting a late dinner, and then they start building a fort, which Bruce surprisingly helps with, before they tuck up and watch a movie together.

 

He’s just settling back in to his work to finish one of his essays when he gets a text from Steve, _this place is bat shit crazy.  Send help._

——

 

It starts as soon as Steve gets home.

 

Joe explains a little on their ride home.  Leah improved substantially, and then, without warning, they came home one night to a rager, and they’d had to call an ambulance on a young man passed out, face down on the floor, who started seizing as soon as he got into the ambulance.  Now, they’re forced to keep a close eye on Leah, not allowing her out with her boyfriend, though they suspect that she’s been sneaking out.

 

Riley, also, has taken a turn for the worse, spending most of her time cooped up in her room, not speaking to anyone when she’s downstairs.  She has a new girlfriend that Joe expresses his clear dislike of, and she sounds like a bad influence on Riley.

 

Emma is caught in the middle of it all, just trying to stay afloat and stay safe.  Joe hints toward an incident with her and Leah, but when Steve tries to dig deeper, his dad just shakes his head and refuses to explain until they get home.

 

When they do get home, the lights in the house keep flicking on and off in random rooms, and Joe sighs as he gets out.  “Looks like Leah’s fighting with your mother again.”

 

“Does this happen often?” Steve asks as he opens the trunk to get his things.

 

“Unfortunately,” is all Joe says.

 

When they step inside, Steve feels like he’s been hit by a tornado.

 

“I don’t give a fuck what you want!” Leah _screams_ , and Steve pauses just past the threshold, mouth dropping open.

 

“Yeah,” Joe says, going further in.  He disappears into the kitchen, and Steve doesn’t know what to do.  This isn’t his family, this isn’t what coming home is supposed to be like, this isn’t them, this is— _Tony_ is the only way he can think to describe it.

 

“Don’t you dare use that language with me!” Sara yells back, and there’s a brief moment of silence before Leah explodes.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck _you_ , mom!  Fuck this whole fucking house and your stupid motherfucking rules!”

 

“Leah!”

 

“Dad?” Emma’s small voice leaks into the hallway suddenly, and Steve looks over to the living room doorway.  “Steve,” she whispers, looking at him with wide eyes.

 

“Emma,” Steve gasps, hurrying over to her and dropping to a knee so he can pull her into his arms, “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m scared.”

 

“Do you want to go into my room?”

 

“Is Tony with you?” she asks, looking past him.

 

“No, he had to go home to his mamma,” Steve says, and he doesn’t know why, but he looks behind him, as well, like maybe he’ll be there and he’ll know what to do.

 

“Can we go quickly?  I don’t want to see Leah.  She’s scary,” Emma says, taking his hand and tugging him down the hall.

 

Steve goes with her as the fight continues.  “Where do you think you’re going?  _Stop turning the lights off_!”

 

“I don’t want to see your ugly whore face!” Leah screeches, “I’m getting the fuck away from you!  I’m not staying in this bat shit insane house!  You’re all out of your fucking minds!”

 

“Leah!”

 

Leah comes careening around the corner, Emma squeaks and turns into Steve, hiding her face, and Steve inhales sharply, staring.  “Leah,” he says breathlessly.

 

“Hey, big brother,” she says, this awful grin turning up the corner of her mouth, “Have fun at college?  Take a hint, and turn the fuck around and go back.  You don’t want to be here.”

 

“Leah,” is all he can say.

 

She’s emaciated, her cheekbones so clear in her face, and her arms so thin, her jeans sagging against her skinny hips.  The circles under her eyes are dark bruises, like she hasn’t slept in days, and her hair looks ratty in barely kept dreadlocks.

 

“Yeah, that’s the fun reaction.  Emmie!” she shrieks, and Emma clings to Steve, burrowing deeper.

 

“Don’t let her touch me,” Emma whispers.

 

“Emmie,” Leah coos, kneeling, “Come here, sissy.  You know I would never do anything to—”

 

Sara appears, jerking Leah swiftly to her feet.  “Get away from her,” she snaps, turning on Leah, “You know you’re not to put your hands on her.”

 

“Come on, _mom_ ,” Leah croons, leaning toward her, “A little never hurt anyone.”

 

“You gave your sister _heroin_ ,” Sara spits, and Steve scoops Emma up into his arms and steps around them, heading for the stairs.

 

“Steve!” Leah roars, coming back to life, “Where are you going, Steve?  Don’t take Emma away!  I never meant it!  I wasn’t thinking, I said sorry!”

 

But Steve just hastens up the stairs, holding onto Emma tightly.  “Steve,” she whispers, trembling.

 

“Don’t look,” he says, and she closes her eyes.

 

“Leah, don’t make me call the police again!” Sara exclaims suddenly.

 

“Go a-fucking-head, mother dearest,” Leah sings, “I’m out of this pussy place!  Y’all are boring as horse shit!  _Bye_!”

 

And then the door slams.

 

Steve heads down the hall, and he doesn’t put Emma down until he’s gotten inside his room.  He sheds his backpacks, throws his duffel onto the floor, and says, “I’m going to go check on Riley.  I’ll be right back, okay?”

 

“Can I lock the door while you’re gone?”  The question breaks Steve’s heart, but he nods.  He waits until he hears the lock click once he’s in the hall again before he makes his way toward Riley’s room, and he can’t wrap his head around what could have possibly happened in the last two months that could have so severely changed his sister, and even worse, why no one’s told him.

 

Riley’s door is locked, and he actually runs right into the door in his attempt to get inside.  “Riley?” he calls, knocking with one hand while he rubs his nose with the other, “Why is the door locked?”

 

“Go away,” she mumbles from inside, and the music gets louder, drowns out everything else, and Steve sighs.

 

“Riley, please.”

 

She doesn’t answer, and seconds tick by until the door is opening.  “Steve?” she asks, looking up at him, “You’re home.”

 

“I’m home.”

 

“Thank god,” Riley gasps, and runs into his arms.

 

Steve is frozen for a second, just standing there, arms in the air, until he deflates, folding Riley away.  “Wanna come into my room with me and Emma?” he asks softly.  Riley nods before she disappears back into her room, grabs her phone, and comes back out, closing the door behind her, but not before Steve can see how dark it’s gotten in there.  “How is everything?” he asks as they go back down the hall.

 

“Awful, and not just because of Leah,” Riley says, “Mom and dad are up everyone’s asses, demanding—”

 

“Riley,” Steve says, gaze snapping over to her.

 

“Oh, really?  You, too, with the language thing?  Grow up, Steve, I’m going to be fifteen soon.  Teenagers swear.”

 

“Sorry,” Steve says, and then he knocks on the door.

 

“What’s the password?” Emma calls from inside.

 

“Open the door, or Leah will smash it in,” Riley says, and the lock clicks.

 

“That was mean,” Steve says, leading the way in.  When they get inside, Emma is on Steve’s bed, looking nervous.  “Leah left,” Steve reminds her, “Your sister is just being a brat.”

 

“That’s her natural habitat, mom says,” Emma says, earning a vicious glare from Riley.

 

“Don’t use words you don’t understand, rugrat,” Riley tosses right back.

 

“I’m not a rugrat,” Emma says defiantly, glaring at her in return.

 

“Alright!” Steve exclaims, “Guys, I literally just got home.  Can we at least try to be civil?”

 

“Whatever,” Riley says, folding her arms, and Steve blinks.

 

“Riley,” he says, slowly, and she looks over at him, sees him noticing, and quickly shoves down the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

 

“I’m going back to my room,” she snarls, “Welcome home, Stephen.”  And she storms out of the room.

 

“She doesn’t like when we talk about the cuts on her arms,” Emma says, sighing, “No one likes talking to anyone anymore.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says slowly, “I can see that.”

 

Emma yawns, stretching her arms up.  “I know it’s early and dinner is soon, but I want to take a nap.  Whenever Leah’s home, it’s always so loud, and I have trouble sleeping at night now.  Will you lie down with me until I fall asleep?”

 

“Of course,” Steve says, kicking off his shoes.  He gets Emma settled in his bed, tucking the blankets up over her shoulders, and then he slides in opposite her, lying on his side so he can see her.  He’s quiet until Emma sighs, and then he asks, “Why is it loud?”

 

“Sometimes, she throws parties,” Emma says, “Sometimes, there are bad people in the house.  Sometimes, it’s Brandon’s fault.”

 

“Brandon?” Steve asks, frowning.

 

“Her and Alex broke up last month because she cheated on him with Brandon, so now she’s dating Brandon.  Have you ever cheated on Tony, Steve?”

 

“Yes,” Steve admits because she deserves to know the truth and because he’s never going to run away from that again, “And it was the worst moment of my life.”

 

“Did you break up?  Is that why he’s not here?” Emma asks, and she doesn’t look sad like Steve thought she would at such a notion.

 

“No,” Steve says, smiling sadly, “He held in there, got through it with me.  We’re stronger now because of it.”

 

“Well,” Emma sighs, “I’m glad.  I like Tony.  I don’t like Alex.  I hope this makes them weak so they don’t get back together.  He was the one that had the stuff that made me sick.”

 

“The—heroin?”

 

“That’s what mom called it.  I’m tired,” she adds before Steve can press for more information, “Can you wake me up when it’s dinnertime?”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, and that’s that.

 

Steve lies there with Emma until her breathing is soft and slow, and then he carefully climbs out of bed and leaves, going downstairs.  It’s quiet, and so he enters the kitchen warily, looking around.  His mom is at the island, her head in her hands, Joe pressing a bag of peas against the back of her neck.

 

“Mom?” he says into the silence.

 

“Steve,” Sara sighs, lifting her head and turning to look at him, “I’m so sorry, sweetie.  I forgot I saw you come in.”

 

“What happened?” Steve asks, coming across the kitchen to look under the peas, where several deep scratches are.

 

“It’s nothing,” Sara tries to wave it away, but Steve can’t stop staring at them, can’t stop imaging Leah grabbing their mother by the back of her neck.  She sighs, looking at him for a long moment before she says, “You smell like marijuana.  Please go shower and put your clothes in the wash so your sisters don’t ask questions.  We have enough to deal with without them asking me if you’ve been smoking weed.  I don’t want to hear any excuses,” she adds as he opens his mouth, “Just go.  Please.  I’m tired.”

 

And she turns away from Steve, ending the conversation.  He stands there for a few more seconds before he nods, leaving.  How he ends up in the shower, he doesn’t recall, but he texts Tony before he gets in, moving so sluggishly he can barely type, _this place is bat shit crazy.  Send help._

He wants to be at home in his arms.

 

——

 

Tony looks over as his phone starts ringing, and he frowns when he sees Steve’s name flash across the screen.  He taps the earbud until Jarvis crackles to life, “Yes, sir?”

 

“Transfer call,” he says even as he grabs his phone and tosses his laptop to the side.  “I’ll be back,” he says to Bruce and Betty, who just nod distractedly.  He heads out as the call picks up, and he says, “Hey.  How is it?”

 

“Awful,” Steve’s tired voice echoes back to him, “I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Let it out.”

 

Tony doesn’t necessarily expect him to, but a small part of him knows it’s coming when Steve starts ranting, “Leah is out of her fucking mind.  She was screaming at my mom when I walked in, swearing like you wouldn’t believe.  She kept turning off all the lights as my mom followed her through the house, said she was doing it so she couldn’t see my mom’s _ugly whore face_ , and I was just standing there in the front hallway when Emma came out of the living room, _terrified_.  I started to bring her upstairs, but Leah saw us, and she stopped to try to get Emma, who wouldn’t even look at her.  Her new fucking boyfriend gave Emma _heroin_ , Tony.  She could have died, and Leah doesn’t seem to think it was a big deal.  She was crazy.  She was screaming and raging and just _furious_ , and then she saw me, and she just turned into this different person, this weird smile on her face as she told me to turn around and go back to school, and then when I took Emma way, she sounded like Leah again, like she didn’t realize what was happening, and—”

 

“Wait,” Tony says because several violent memories of his father from his youth are warring for dominance in his mind, “Steve, that’s—shit, that sounds like me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Manic depression, Steve.  Bipolar disorder.  That’s exactly what that sounds like.”

 

“No,” Steve says, his voice going hollow.

 

“My father was like that when I was younger, up and down and up and down, and we never knew when it would end.  I was like that in high school.  It’s—”

 

“But no one in my family has it,” Steve cuts him off, and Tony can hear him trying to not believe it.

 

“It doesn’t have to be hereditary,” Tony says sadly, “Steve, she needs help.”

 

“Riley’s cutting.”

 

“Shit,” Tony says, and he sits down just outside Bruce and Betty’s door because he wasn’t able to keep walking as Steve’s story twisted itself inside out.

 

“My dad hates her new girlfriend, says she’s a bad influence, but I didn’t even get a chance to ask Riley about her because she was so awful to me, and then she just left.  My mom is—she’s falling apart.  I—I need you, Tony.”

 

“Steve,” Tony sighs.

 

“Not like that,” Steve says, “I just—I need to hear your voice.  I need to know that everything is going to be okay.”

 

Steve honestly doesn’t expect it when Tony says, “It’s going to be okay.  It is.  If I could get through all this shit, an addict most of my life and come out on top, then so can Leah.  She’ll be okay, and so will you, and so will Riley and Emma and your parents, I promise, Steve.  This, too, shall pass.”

 

“I hope,” Steve says, and he sounds close enough to tears that Tony wants to run to his car and speed to him, if only to wrap his arms around him and kiss his tears away.  “Can you tell me a story?” Steve asks.

 

He doesn’t know why, but Tony tells him about his first kiss, when he and Grace, his best friend in the whole world, had been playing in his room, and she’d just up and kissed him, this adorable little thing, at eight, and she’d just _kissed him_ , and he’d run away.  He’d run and hid in Maria’s closet, and when she finally found him, he was covered in glitter.

 

Steve laughs, but there’s something like sadness there, and nothing Tony says, no matter how funny his story gets, he can’t chase it away, and so they keep talking until the other line is quiet, and Tony hangs up, letting his head thud back against the wall.

 

He digs out his phone, opens up a new message to Maria, and types, _why, when everything is so good, does everything go so horribly wrong?_

It’s a few minutes before she responds, _Sara just texted me something similar.  Steve?_

_Yeah,_ Tony says, _has Sara told you?_

_Yeah_ , Maria says, _I don’t know what to say to her except that it gets better.  You got better._

_Leaps and bounds, my love.  Are you coming home tomorrow?_

_I’ll be there before you realize I’ve been gone,_ Tony types, and then he gets up and goes back into Bruce and Betty’s room, rolling out his yoga mat, which entices them to join, and somehow, he finds peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry! I really don’t have any excuses other than I’ve been being lazy. I know I said I would be writing a ton when I went up to visit Erin, too, which I did, technically, but for another fic. She’s like that. I say something, just an idea, and she morphs it into a story, won’t let anything else happen until, suddenly, I’m 10k into a science boyfriends bookstore au. I’ll post it eventually, as I’ve still got a lot to write in it, but expect that sometime in the future.
> 
> It was a nice break, though. I love superhusbands, I do. They’re my first and favorite ship, but there’s something about science boyfriends that always pulls me back. Guys, it’s been 255k words. So I guess I do kind of have an excuse, though I don’t want to call it that. I was exhausted. I was almost bored. I was feeling like I did the last time I stopped writing this. And then, Erin and I got to talking about the bookstore au, and I wrote that for a week, and then, as I was driving home (for four and a half hours), I realized, wow, I have a _ton_ of ideas for the college au. Sometimes, I just need a break from the same old song and dance. I hope you guys don’t feel like that reading this. I’m sure you do, so thank you, to all of you that have stuck with me from the beginning. We’re in it for the long haul, and I’m so grateful to every single one of you.
> 
> I actually have fic related things to talk about. I meant to address this last chapter, but I don’t know—I got distracted and forgot, probably. Ellie and Grace. I’m going to have to be careful about how I tease this, but do you remember the side project I’m working on for this fic that I said involves Maria and Tony? I think I said that? Oh god, if I didn’t, well, the super secret side project that I’m working on that Erin’s going to kill me for spoiling sooner (it has an actual spoil date, like, a specific chapter in which I’m going to tell you guys what it is), but hi. So Ellie and Grace are part of that side project. In short, Ellie is Maria’s absolute best friend. They went to college together, and Ellie is super fun, and I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think she’s just some random character I’m adding (because, good grief, we have a lot of those). Ellie is new to you guys, yes, I’ve never really mentioned her before, and Maria will hopefully explain why that is in the coming chapters, but Ellie is not new to me. I’ve been writing about her for a while, and I really hope you guys like her. She’s a lot of fun.
> 
> I have another thing to kind of spoil, another super secret side project that I’m actually probably allowed to tell you guys about. Remember Johnny? Okay, funny sidebar, I often mispronounce Johnny and Tony when they’re in the same sentence together, pronounced like each other’s names, like Jony and Tohnny. It’s awful. It happens _so much_. I know a lot of you had issues with Johnny, or really just weren’t sure about him, and hey, maybe this will change your mind if you ever read it? If I do get around to posting this, it will be after the college au, and it is, as always, inspired by Erin because she said, and I (mis)quote, “I miss Johnny. Write me deleted scenes about Johnny. Forget the bookstore au, Johnny.” No, that’s definitely not a misquote, that’s absolutely how she said it because she’s trying to kill me. I’m probably going to write a small mini-series containing deleted scenes of Johnny and Tony’s (Tohnny and Jony’s) relationship from this college au because, hey, why not, I adored them, so did Erin, and I really only write for me and her, though I post because I’m crazy selfish, and I want all the comments.
> 
> I think that’s it. This is long. I’m coming down from my high of seeing Erin for seven days straight. I miss her. I’ve cried several times since I’ve gotten home because she’s not here, and I’m not there, and it just makes no sense why I can’t live up there. (Damn money.) I’m going to try very hard to have a new chapter up for you guys much, much sooner. I have two days off in a row this week, and my writing brain is going crazy, so hopefully I’m going to keep throwing my fingers at these keys and jamming out something awesome.
> 
> Oh goodness, I forgot something! I recently started a new blog, [theyogaproject](http://theyogaproject.tumblr.com/), which you should all go check out because it's full of lots of fun and uncomplicated yoga poses from my personal challenge, a year in yoga!
> 
> I need to go to bed. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	48. Chapter 48

Tony leaves early, early enough that his hall hasn’t started stirring yet, and Bruce and Betty grumble at him when he kisses them good morning and carefully climbs over them.  Their CA is just coming out of her room when Tony passes by, and she waves blearily, so he tosses her a smile and keeps going.  He doesn’t have much packing left to do, and, within the hour, he’s ready to leave.

 

He stops by Bruce and Betty’s room to see if they’re awake, says his goodbyes when they mostly are, and then he digs out his phone and calls Steve on facetime.  It takes him a few rings to answer, and, when he does, he’s still in bed, and he looks half asleep.

 

“Fuck time is it?” he mumbles.

 

“Early o’clock,” Tony replies, and Steve groans.

 

“Why are you calling me at early o’clock?”

 

“Because I wanted to see how things were, and this is the time I’m awake.”

 

“Is this going to become a habit?  You keep waking up at stupid times,” Steve says before he stretches, a soft whine falling from him as he curves away from his bed.

 

“Occasional insomniac,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder, “How was your first night back?”

 

“Wretched.  Leah came home at three in the morning, slammed the front door so hard, she almost put a hole through the wall, and she didn’t even try to be quiet, just sang at the top of her lungs as she was coming upstairs.  Emma came into my room, exhausted and crying, and I was up with her for a few until she finally fell asleep, and—yeah, she’s still here.”

 

“Who are you talking to?” Emma’s little voice drifts over, and Tony brightens.

 

“Hi, Emma!” he exclaims loudly.

 

“Tony!” Emma shrieks, and then Steve’s phone is being yanked away from him.  “Are you coming to visit?” she asks as her face fills the screen.

 

“I don’t think so, love.  My mamma is having a friend over this week, and I’m really excited to see her,” Tony explains, “But maybe I’ll see you for a little bit?”

 

“Please, Steve!” Emma exclaims, “Please let Tony come over!”

 

“We’ll see.  Let me see my phone.”  Steve reappears, and he asks, “Your mom has a friend coming over?”

 

“Yeah, her friend from college.  She’s thinking about moving back here, and my mamma invited her to stay for the week, see if she still liked it in the city.  I haven’t seen her since I was nine or ten.  She had a daughter, one of my best friends.”

 

“I never knew,” Steve says, and it always surprises him, the many facets of Tony’s life that he still hasn’t learned.

 

“I never talked about them,” Tony says as he reaches his car, “It never seemed like something to talk about.  They aren’t in my life anymore, haven’t been for a long time, but I think this could be really good for my mamma.  It’s been a long time since she’s had a friend.”

 

“That wasn’t you,” Steve clarifies.

 

Tony laughs, “Yeah, that wasn’t me.”  He listens to the slow hum of his engine before he says, “I’m leaving, so I need my hands.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, blowing him a kiss, “Thank you for calling.”

 

“Chin up, shoulders,” Tony says, “You’ll be okay.”

 

“Here’s hoping,” Steve says, and they hang up.

 

Tony blasts something loud and ridiculous on his way home, something that will give passerby a reason to turn their heads and glare at him, and once—it’s nice out, so he has his windows open, god forbid—an old man flips him off at a light.

 

When he finally gets home, it’s almost nine, and there are two cars in the driveway.  He pulls up, looking over at the Honda, a little mom car that he could never imagine his own mother driving.  Her car, a beautiful new BMW that Howard got her after their hiking trip, is sitting next to the Honda, and Tony knows it has to be Ellie.  His Audi he parks on the other side of Maria’s, and the front door opens as he pops the trunk.  Tony doesn’t look over, expecting Angela, but as he’s lifting the trunk, two arms wind around him, and he smiles, leaning back into Maria.

 

“Just wait until you see Grace,” Maria says, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she releases him, “She’s grown so much.  As have you,” Maria adds, reaching in to grab one of his backpacks, “I can’t wait to show you off to Ellie.”

 

Something occurs to Tony as he’s pulling out his duffle, and he looks over at his mom.  “How much does she know?” he asks.

 

Maria holds his gaze for a long moment before reaching in for another backpack.  “Everything,” she says finally, “We’ve kept in touch over the years, exchanged letters.  I know as much about Grace as she knows about you.”

 

“And when did you last write her?”

 

“A month or two before Christmas.”

 

Tony nods.  “So she’s expecting an addict,” he says, and Maria sighs.

 

“Darling—”

 

“Have you talked to Sara lately?” he asks as he grabs the last bag, and then closes the trunk.

 

“We’ve been talking off and on throughout it all.  I know,” Maria says, “How’s Steve?”

 

“Freaking out,” Tony says, “Understandably.  When it was me, he could walk away.  Now that it’s Leah, he’s trapped.”

 

“And going through his own shit, if I recall.”

 

Tony just nods, and they make their way over to the front door.  Maria makes him leave his things in the foyer before she’s directing them over to her wing and into her studio.  Inside, Tony can’t help grinning—he remembers Ellie as though it was only seconds ago that he last saw her.  She’s still got her wild blonde curls, tucked away in high ponytail, this great mess of hair, and her brilliant blue eyes, still this short little thing with spitfire energy.

 

Grace—Grace looks more different than Tony expected.  She has her mother’s hair, but it’s tied away in a long, thick braid, and her father’s warm, hazel eyes.  She’s tall and thin, with a more subdued fire in her bloods, something Tony remembers well.  It always took a fair amount of annoyance before she got worked up enough to start fighting with him.

 

“Oh my god,” Ellie says as she stands from the futon, “Look at you.”

 

Tony manages a small, crooked smile as she comes over, staring at him.  She takes his long-fingered hands, holds them tightly as her gaze flicks over him.  “How old are you?” she asks, lifting one of her hands to tuck a loose strand of hair back into the mess.

 

“Nineteen,” he says.

 

“Damn,” Ellie says, finally stepping back, “Maria, he looks so much like you.”

 

“Wait until you see him standing next to Howard,” Maria says, and Ellie shakes her head.

 

“It’s so wonderful to see you again, Tony,” Ellie says, smiling.

 

“E voi, zia Ellie,” he says because he knows it’ll make her giggle, and it does.

 

“My little asskicker,” she says with a beam before she tugs him forward in a hug, and he embraces her tightly.

 

Grace is waiting behind her when they finally pull apart, and Tony reaches over and tugs on her braid.  “Brat!” she exclaims, yanking on his ear, and then they’re hugging.

 

“Some things never change,” Ellie says, laughing.

 

They spend the morning in the studio, catching up and getting to know one another again.  It’s more than Tony ever hoped for, seeing someone from his past, but watching the way Maria lights up, slowly returning to someone Tony thought he’d never see again, anything is worth it, even Ellie’s endless questions about his health and Grace’s quiet smirk as her mother pesters him—he’ll get even with her later for that.

 

By the time lunch rolls around, Tony can’t remember the last time he felt this happy while he was home.

 

——

 

He does get even with Grace, much later, after Maria and Ellie have retired to the sunroom with wine and quiet conversation, and Tony is leading Grace upstairs.  “Come on, pull your weight,” he says, tossing a backpack at her.

 

“How much did you bring home?” she teases, grabbing another one, “You’re worse than I am.”

 

“I’m a stage six queen, I’m allowed,” Tony says, looping his duffle around him.

 

“Stage six?” Grace laughs, “And how’s that?”

 

“As a male, once I can do a split, I reach stage three.  Stages four and five consist of your typical things—seeing a queen live and in person, which I recently did, having seen Kesha, and which I will soon, having tickets to Cher, covering yourself in body glitter, wearing sequined clothes, convoluted yoga poses, the list goes on and on.  Stage six is abandoning the female gender for a long-term homosexual relationship.”

 

“It’s possible you’re more ridiculous than you were at eight,” Grace says as they reach Tony’s floor, “Why are there so many goddamn stairs?”

 

“Because Howard Stark wanted to be as far from his gay son as possible.”

 

“Gay?” Grace challenges, “I thought you said you’d abandoned the female gender, meaning that you’ve clearly tried the other team extensively.”

 

“Several times,” Tony says, opening his door, “And I appreciate the female body immensely.  You—” he gestures to her, “—are beautiful, and if I wasn’t currently boning the _most gorgeous_ man I’ve ever seen, I’d definitely show an interest.  I don’t really care what I’m getting, as long as I’m getting something.”

 

“I think they have a term for that,” Grace says, dumping his things on the floor.

 

“Bruce calls me pansexual.  It’s annoying.”

 

“I have a friend that likes labeling things, too,” Grace says, stretching before she jumps onto Tony’s bed and sprawls out.

 

“He doesn’t like labeling things, just wanted to inform me once that my tendencies actually have a definitive word.  What’s your labeling friend story?”

 

“She was a girlfriend until she’d bothered me enough about being a lesbian and not bi, and so I told her to go screw, and she did—my best friend.”

 

“Ouch,” Tony says as digs around in one of his backpacks.  He returns with his pills, a small bag, and grins.  “Do you smoke?”

 

“My hero,” Grace says, smirking wickedly, “I thought you were off the goods.”

 

Tony shrugs as he climbs up next to her.  “Mostly,” he says, “Kicked alcohol and hard drugs, but marijuana is a totally different story.  There is no evidence that my getting high has ever been reasonable cause for my health issues, so I’m gonna keep toking until someone tells me it’s bad for my heart.”

 

“It probably is regardless.”

 

“Not in any way that I need to care about,” Tony says as he starts rolling a blunt.  When he’s finished, he hands it to Grace, digs around in his pills until he finds his inhaler, and applies it.

 

“Why smoke if you can’t breathe?” Grace asks, grabbing his lighter.

 

“I can, just having trouble today,” Tony says, taking his meds before he reaches for the blunt.  He takes a long pull, sighs, and leans back onto his bed.  “So, what’s on the love list now?” he asks as Grace settles next to him.

 

“Men for a bit, I think.  Girls suck.”

 

“So do boys,” Tony says, and Grace laughs.

 

They’re quiet for a moment until Grace says, “I wish we hadn’t left.”

 

“I get why you did,” Tony says, looking over at her.  Grace leans her head to the side, meeting his gaze.  “This—” he waves a hand at the ceiling, but Grace knows what he means, “—it’s toxic.”

 

“You know what sucks?” Grace says, and she sounds sad in a way that makes Tony ache, “My mom left because of your dad, and now she’s divorced because my father did unspeakable things, just like yours.”

 

“He hit you?” Tony asks.

 

“Sometimes worse,” Grace says, and Tony holds out his hand.

 

“Come here?” he asks, and Grace does.  She lets Tony curl an arm around her, and she lays her head against his chest, tangling her legs with his.  They keep smoking, but it’s quiet, an easy, comfortable stillness.  “I’m sorry,” Tony says finally, and he means it.

 

“How’s that for a reentrance into a long lost friendship?” Grace says with a sigh, “I hope we move back here.”

 

“Topic change?”

 

“Please.”

 

“I can actually do a split.”

 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Grace says, pushing off of him and getting up, “Let’s go, stretch it out.”

 

And so they spend the next hour doing just that, Tony showing off what different poses he can do, trying to help Grace into some, and then, for no reason they can understand, trying to do simple acroyoga poses until they’re tumbling over, giggling hysterically.

 

Eventually, they end up on the floor, lying on their backs next to each other, when Grace says, “Warning.”

 

“Mhm?” Tony says, stretching his arms up above him, curling his back to try to chase away some of the ache there.

 

“I’m horny,” Grace says.

 

“Straight forward,” Tony says, nodding, “What’re you gonna do about that?”

 

“Not sure yet,” Grace says, sitting up and reaching for her toes, “I don’t know why people are so crazy about sex.”

 

“It’s a foreign language,” Tony says, and Grace looks over at him sharply.  “What?” he says, brow furrowing.

 

“I’ve never heard it described like that,” she says, “Are you fluent?”

 

“Vastly,” Tony says, stretching again, “Jesus, my back is fucking killing me.  Help me stretch it out.”  He sits up, pulls his legs apart in a v shape, and reaches.  Grace grounds her feet against Tony’s, takes his hands, and slowly leans back.  He groans, leaning further until Grace’s shoulders touch his bed, and then she drops him, just lets Tony lie there, bending toward the floor.

 

“Did it work?” she asks.

 

“No,” he mumbles, “I need to be upside down.  It’s actually really good for the health of your spine,” he continues as he gets to his feet, drops into down dog, and then folds his arms down into a supported headstand.  He kicks up and holds it for a few seconds before he goes on, “It helps elongate your spine, really loosens it up and readjusts everything.”  He pulls one leg in, folds it, and starts to bring the other one down once he’s found his balance again, and then he wiggles his foot over until he’s in full lotus, pulling it back until his body is aligned again.

 

“It’s late,” Grace says as she gets up, “Tell me about sex as a foreign language.”

 

Tony extends his legs back up.  “It’s how I speak when words aren’t enough.  Everyone I’ve ever dated, with the exception of Johnny, has had this backward idea that sex is just that—sex.  It’s this sin that you commit when you’re in a relationship with someone that you love, but to me, it’s communication.  It’s my voice when I’m afraid of what might come out if I try to talk.  Steve’s starting to get it, starting to realize that sex isn’t a sin, it’s a dance between us, and it’s beautiful.  It’s how we trust and love and hate and laugh and fight and everything in between.  It’s how I talk to him when I can’t explain my heart.”

 

“It’s a part of your soul,” Grace says.

 

“Johnny got that,” Tony says, legs dropping out into a split, “I wanted to have a threesome with Bruce and Betty, my incredible scientist friends, and I asked him about it, and he knew, he just _knew_ that it wasn’t about cheating on him or being bored with him.  I wanted to try a new language, and it was amazing, and when I was done—honestly, I’m never actually done with them, I’d keep sleeping with them for the rest of my life, it’s a wonderful experience—I went back to the language I knew best, Johnny’s language.  I speak Steve now.”

 

“Do you think Steve would ever accept you dabbling in different languages?” Grace asks as Tony finally comes out of his headstand.

 

“I dunno,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder, “It’s an interesting conversation to have.”

 

“Are you coming to bed?” Grace asks, and Tony looks over to see her tucked up beneath his blankets, her eyes heavy with sleep.

 

“That’s my side,” he says, and that’s when he gets even because he jumps on top of her and tickles her until she’s shrieking.

 

When they do finally settle in for the night, Tony is tired and curious, and his brain won’t stop thinking until morning is peeking through his curtains, and he needs to shake out some of this energy, so he goes downstairs to find Maria already awake and on her mat.  “How was your night?” she asks as he comes in.

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admits as he comes over.

 

“Yeah,” Maria sighs, “It feels weird.”

 

“It feels right,” Tony corrects her, “I hope they move back.”

 

“Did Grace tell you about her father?”

 

Maria folds back into camel as Tony rolls out his mat next to her, and they move together as fluidly as though they were one.

 

 

——

 

Steve looks toward the doorway as the door opens, frowns as he sees Leah come storming through.  He comes out of his headstand slowly, and by the time he’s on his knees and turning, his mom is walking past to close the door.  She pauses on her way back, leaning against the frame.

 

“Hey,” Steve says, and she manages a small smile, only one corner of her mouth turning up, “Everything good?”

 

“She’s sober, at the moment,” Sara says, “So I guess that’s a plus.”

 

“Are there periods of okay, or is it just all bad?”

 

“Small periods of okay.”  Sara sighs before coming in and sitting on the sofa.  She’s quiet for a moment before she says, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Tony to come over this week.”

 

“Because he caused all of this?” Steve mutters, turning back and getting into down dog, “Yeah, dad was pretty clear about that.”

 

“Your father—” she breaks off in anger, but Steve ignores it as he shifts his weight, presses down into his thumbs.  “Your father,” she finally continues, “He was wrong in what he said, and I hope you will express my sincerest apologies to Tony.  My concern about Tony coming over is what he might be exposed to.  He’s doing so well, and—”

 

“He’s not the one you need to worry about,” Steve says before he kicks, coming up into an unsteady handstand.

 

“Steve,” his mother says softly, and he can feel her gaze on him.

 

He brings one of his legs down, bends it so that he can try to find his balance, but his wrists are aching, and his shoulders are trembling a little, so he just drops down.  His veins feel like they’re on fire, like it’s a year ago and Tony is on his knees, hovering above him, mouth so close but not touching, like he’s reaching for something he can’t have.

 

“Steve,” Sara says again.

 

“I need some air,” Steve says, and it’s not what he needs, so he takes his exit and heads upstairs.  After a quick, cursory search, during which he knew he wasn’t going to find cigarettes, he makes a daring move and crosses the hall to Leah’s room.

 

“Whatever,” she growls when he knocks.

 

He carefully opens the door, though he remains on the threshold.  “May I come in?” he asks.

 

Surprising Steve, his sister turns abruptly from her computer, and a wavering smile flickers across her face.  “Hey,” she says, and she sounds like Leah, not the monster that’s inhabiting her skin these days, “What’s up?”

 

“Feeling anxious,” Steve says, “Got any smokes?”

 

Leah grins, and it’s feral in a way that Tony never managed—he always wanted to drown in his mouth when he used to smile like that, this wonderful thing that reminded him of a predator, but with Leah, he wants to turn and run.  “Course I do,” she says, getting up and going over to her purse, “Close the door.”

 

Steve does as he’s told, coming inside.  He feels like this is probably one of his worse ideas, but he needs to escape, needs to cool the fire in his blood.  He accepts a cigarette from his sister, lets her light it for him, and then he takes a long pull, sighing as the smoke curls through his lungs and back out.

 

“You need something stronger,” Leah says, dropping onto her bed.  Steve follows her, scooting back until he’s leaning against the wall.

 

“You shouldn’t be taking things stronger,” Steve says because he has to, or he’ll never forgive himself for what comes next.

 

Leah reaches over for her phone, switches on her Pandora to something loud and violent, and then she leans over, pulls out a bottle of whiskey from under her bed, and hands it to him.  Steve stares at it, and then her for a full five seconds each before he takes the bottle, uncaps it, and takes a deep swig.

 

“How’s school?” Leah asks, lighting her own cigarette.

 

“Fine,” Steve says, wincing as it burns down his throat, “Classes are okay enough.”

 

“What are you taking?”

 

“French II, Painting III, Art History, and Drawing III.”

 

“Sounds right up your alley.”  She takes the whiskey from him, groans as she drinks, and Steve has the quick, blinding thought that his sister is becoming an alcoholic before he lifts his cigarette to his lips again.  “Mom’s been trying to get me to go into medical, but I have absolutely no fucking interest.  I get it, she’s a doctor, it’s fucking wonderful, but I just don’t give a shit about other people.”

 

“What do you want to go to school for?” Steve asks.

 

“Seriously?” Leah asks, looking over at him.  Steve nods.  “Seriously, I want to study the Amazon.  Like, fucking anacondas and the culture and how life just works down there.  Animals are pretty fucking fantastic.  They never judge you.  I dunno, environmental science with a concentration in reptilian inhabitants.  I love snakes.”

 

“So does Tony,” Steve muses.

 

“Tony,” Leah says, nodding before she drinks again, “How’s the old man?  Still kicking, I hope.”

 

“Ticker’s running well,” Steve admits, “Though he’s on the wagon, and it’s fucking boring.”

 

He doesn’t mean for it to come out, doesn’t know why it comes out, isn’t even sure if it’s the truth even though he knows, somewhere deep in the recesses of this black pit that’s forming inside of him, he feels that.

 

“Is that so?” Leah asks, and she sounds curious, “I mean, I can see why, but I thought you were the stone cold perfect son.  Then again, you are smoking and drinking whiskey with your kid sister just after lunch, so what am I to assume anymore?  Have you picked up wild child’s wicked habits?”

 

“In part,” Steve says, and it feels good to admit it, “Life is more exciting with a thrill to chase.  Tony taught me that, but I embraced it.  I was always so careful in high school, and I—”

 

“You were fucking not,” Leah laughs, “Remember that teacher?”

 

“No,” Steve groans, “Let’s not talk about it, and say we did.”

 

“Dude,” Leah says, shaking her head, “You fucked her.”

 

“Leah,” Steve grumbles, covering his face with one hand, “It was a mistake.”

 

“You straight up fucked her.  I remember that fight with the ‘rents, remember hearing them _screaming_ at you for ruining that poor woman’s life.  She transferred to a different school after you graduated—probably too embarrassed to face your upcoming sisters as students.”

 

“She was only twenty-four,” Steve says, reaching for the whiskey bottle.

 

“Which was six years older than you, dumbass.  Mom was _pissed_.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Steve says, “I heard you got a new boyfriend.”

 

“Yeah, fuck Alex.  He treated me like such shit.  I’m dating Brandon now.”

 

“Heard you cheated on Alex with him,” Steve says, and it feels like he’s twisting a knife back at himself.

 

“I know, goody-two-shoes, can’t cheat on anyone,” Leah mocks him, but Steve’s following silence makes her look over at him.  “No,” she says, that awful grin returning.

 

“More than once,” Steve says quietly because he doesn’t want to admit it, doesn’t want to think about the amount of times he’s hurt someone because he wanted Tony so desperately but couldn’t admit it to himself, but now he’s hurting Tony because he’s terrified of losing him.

 

“With who?” Leah asks, and she looks so focused on his answer that it takes him a moment to answer, feeling a little sick.

 

“Everyone,” Steve says, shrugging one shoulder, “Only once in high school.”

 

“With the teacher,” Leah clarifies, “Yeah, you and your however long girlfriend broke up during, what, your fourth month fucking her?”

 

“Yeah.  Guess it’s a pattern now.”

 

“Come on,” Leah whines, shoving him playfully, “Tell me with who.”

 

“Everyone,” Steve repeats, “Cheated on Sharon and Bucky with Tony, and now it’s all come full circle.”

 

“You cheated on Tony?  Shut up.”

 

“Yeah.  I don’t—I can’t—I keep thinking about it.”

 

“About what?” Leah presses, “The cheating or the guilt?”

 

“Both,” Steve says, staring down at the amber liquid sitting still in the bottle, “I keep trying to remember what Alex’s mouth tasted like, keep trying to remember just exactly how the guys in the closet were fucking, keep trying to remember the way it had felt to come afterward, Tony’s face haunting me, keep trying— _shit_.”

 

“Starting to feel it?” Leah asks, and when Steve looks over at her, she’s fuzzy around the edges.

 

“The fuck did you put in here?” he asks, gaze swiveling around to look blearily at his cigarette.

 

His fingers feel numb.

 

“It’s one of Brandon’s concoctions.  Fucking brilliant,” and that’s the last thing he hears before his vision goes dark.

 

——

 

Ellie finds Maria in the kitchen just after eight, making tea and breakfast.  “Morning,” she says as she takes a seat at the island.

 

“Good morning,” Maria says brightly, tossing a smile over her shoulder, “How did you sleep?”

 

“Marvelously,” Ellie says, “The guest wing is incredible, though my daughter doesn’t seem to have noticed.”

 

“Tony said she slept in his room.”

 

“Back in the swing of things, then,” Ellie says, smiling softly.  She accepts a mug of tea from Maria, who finishes up breakfast before bringing everything over.  It’s mostly different types of fruit, but she’s also cooked eggs and sausages.

 

“Dig in,” Maria says, making up her own plate.  Once they’re tucked in to their food, she finally says, “So.”

 

“Maria,” Ellie sighs, looking down at her hands, “I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Grace told Tony.”

 

“I thought she might.”

 

They sit in silence for a long time before Ellie says, “He’s in jail.  The trial was so long and awful, and I just don’t know what to do for Grace anymore.  It was her idea to come back here, but I agree with her.  It was destroying us, having to pass our neighbors every morning.”

 

“And it isn’t toxic here?” Maria asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Ellie says, “Is it?”

 

Maria starts to answer, but then the distant noise of a car door closing reaches their ears, and Maria straightens, her shoulders tightening.  “I don’t know, either,” Maria says, looking at Ellie with such intensity that Ellie looks over toward the kitchen door.

 

“What happened?” she asks.

 

“He was shot in Russia on a business trip,” Maria says quickly because the front door has opened, “I went to him, and then Tony told me to come home.”

 

“So you did?”

 

“He missed Tony’s birth because he was in Russia.  Nothing good comes of his work overseas, especially there.”

 

“Maria,” Ellie says softly, and then there’s a sharp cry.

 

Maria is up before Ellie even realizes what’s going on, and she runs out of the kitchen, bursting into the foyer to find Howard dragging an exhausted and confused Tony behind him.  He throws Tony from his grip when he sees Maria, and Tony is still waking up enough that he stumbles and hits the floor, catching himself with his hands.

 

“You _left me_?” Howard spits at her, fury sending his blood rushing white hot through him, “For _him_?”

 

“I will always leave you for him,” Maria says.

 

Howard comes in close, and though he raises his hand, he doesn’t strike her.  They stand there, frozen in time, staring at one another, a violent dance halted with a single breath.  “You can’t do it,” Maria says finally, and Howard deflates a little, shoulders sinking.

 

“I’m tired,” he whispers.

 

“You’re still healing,” Maria sighs, reaching up to take his raised hand, fingers curling around his wrist.  She lowers his hand and then turns him away from Tony.  “Go to bed.”

 

He reaches back for her, but Maria steps out of his touch.  “Come with me?” he asks, and it sounds enough like a plead that Tony gets to his feet.  He looks over and sees Ellie standing at the edge of the foyer, in the doorway of one of the halls in the west wing, and she glances over at Tony when she feels his gaze on him.

 

She signs, a quick flick of her fingers that makes Tony smile, and he nods—yes, he’s okay.  Though he’s not fluent, Ellie is, and she’d always tried to teach him sign language, and so he knows enough to get by.  It had been their silent language growing up, something Ellie had taught Grace, as well, and he’d been able to communicate with them when speaking was something he was afraid of.

 

“Not anymore, Howard,” Maria says, and he follows Tony’s gaze.

 

He tries to compose himself, tries to be Howard _Stark_ , but he fails, looks nothing more than Tony’s father, defeated and frighteningly close to being too tired.  “Ellie,” he says softly, “It’s wonderful to see you here.  How have you been?”

 

“Better,” she says, “It’s good to see you, too, Howard.  I heard you had a rough go of it in Russia.”

 

He waves a dismissive hand at his chest.  “They shoot when you don’t drink.  It’s impolite, apparently.  If you’ll excuse me,” and he turns away, disappearing off in the direction of a hidden set of stairs that will take him up to his floor.

 

When he’s gone, Maria lets out a breath and holds out her arm.  Tony goes to her immediately, dipping under her arm and letting her wind it around him, stepping in close.  “Are you okay?” she whispers against his hair.

 

“He just startled me,” Tony assures her, “I was asleep when he came in.  He didn’t hit me.”

 

“No,” Maria says, looking over her shoulder at Ellie, “It’s not toxic here.  Not anymore.”

 

Though Tony doesn’t really believe her, and likely never will, he thinks maybe there’s some hope, enough that they can just be free of Howard, that he’ll live here, but he’ll never actually live inside their hearts again, never be able to slip his way in and settle there.  He thinks maybe they’re going to be okay, maybe his mother has finally found her strength, has finally learned that her strength is not dependent on him.

 

——

 

Steve wakes up feeling foggy and discombobulated.  He feels like he’s been struck over the head with a two by four, and his ears are ringing.  He gets up slowly, holding his head as he does, and he recognizes Leah’s room after a few moments of trying to focus only to have his vision fade in and out.  Finally, though, he feels like he has full function of his limbs again.

 

“Shit,” he says when he sees the clock—it’s just after three.

 

“Not a bad time,” Leah says, glancing over at him from where she’s trying to get into a handstand.

 

“I couldn’t hold one earlier,” he says, reaching over toward her desk for a bottle of what he thinks is water, though he ends up spitting everywhere when it turns out to be vodka.

 

“Oh yeah,” Leah says, finally kicking up, “I like sneaking that around, gives me a bit of thrill.  Fuck.”  She comes back down heavily out of her handstand.  Steve wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning.  “You said you were having trouble with these earlier?” Leah asks, trying again.

 

“Yeah, couldn’t get up, and then when I did, couldn’t stay up.”

 

“Sounds like a Viagra commercial.”  Steve sighs.  “Sor _ry_ ,” Leah mutters, finally giving up, “Maybe it’s the fun stuff, makes your muscles weak or something.”

 

“What did you give me?” Steve finally asks.

 

Leah shrugs.  “I dunno, Brandon makes up these potions, he calls him, and they’re always fucking amazing.”

 

“You drugged me.”

 

“You’re my brother.”

 

“Leah,” Steve says, his voice finding an edge, “You _drugged me_.”

 

Leah turns to him, and there’s something hostile about the way her body moves when she does.  “They drugged your boyfriend and fucked him, and you went and cheated on him with their best friend.”  Steve stares at her, his eyes going wide as his heart thuds painfully against his ribs.  “I know all your dark, fucked up secrets, Steve,” she says, shaking her head as she grins, “You think I don’t see how twisted your soul has gotten?  You come in and out with some of the potions, spill shit you wish you’d never said, and then everyone’s left in the wake of your disaster.”

 

“You’re a disaster,” Steve whispers, but it’s barely that.

 

“At least I’m usually in control.  At least I dumped the guy who tried to rape me.  What did you do?”

 

“I didn’t—it was just a kiss.”

 

“That’s not the part that’s got Tony angry.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Want another hit?” Leah asks, and Steve shakes his head quickly.

 

“You need to stop,” Steve says, getting to his feet jerkily, “You need to stop, Leah.”

 

“Ain’t happening, Stephen.  I’m having way too much fun to quit now.”

 

“You’re going to end up like him,” Steve says, and Leah frowns at him, “Trying to get sober at nineteen.  Do you even know how fucked up that is?”

 

“Not nearly as fucked up as falling apart at nineteen while your boyfriend, whose entire life has been out of control since he was born, is finally finding solid ground under his feet.  You—you are a danger to yourself _and_ to Tony.  I’m just a danger to myself.”

 

“Alex gave Emma heroin,” Steve says as he makes for the door.

 

“She shouldn’t have asked what it was,” Leah says, and Steve starts running.  He doesn’t make it to his bathroom before he’s vomiting, and he spends the next twenty minutes curled over the toilet, fingers gripping it tightly, body convulsing until his mother is sighing and kneeling to rub circles into his back.  When he’s finished, he slumps back, breathing hard.

 

“Why?” Sara asks.

 

He shakes his head, tears falling freely down his face.  “Mom, I can’t—I can’t stop,” Steve says desperately.

 

“Let me help you,” Sara pleads.

 

“Please,” Steve whispers, and then he closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that! Kind of on time! I’m going to keep this short because I have the rest of the day off, and I have a ton of ideas, so I want to get started on the next chapter. I am curious, though—what do you think of Ellie and Grace? I’m having so, so much fun with them, and I really hope you guys are enjoying them, as well. I know it’s only their first chapter, but man, Grace hit me hard. I didn’t expect her to come out like that, but I’m so in love with her character so far. Ellie’s going to develop a little more in the next chapter, so that should be fun, too. I’m excited about all of the story lines going on right now, to be honest. I think some really raw and interesting things are going to come out of this, and I’m so intrigued to see how it all unfolds.
> 
> Oh, I almost forgot. OH MY GOD, THE NEW TV SPOT FOR _AGE OF ULTRON_. I CANNOT. PIETRO HAS AN ACCENT. CLINT TALKED. THOR AND STEVE ARE BEING FUNNY AGAIN. TONYYYY. HEY BIG GUY. I JUST CAN’T. PIETRO HAS AN ACCENT. I’M SO EXCITED. I MIGHT DIE. Just from the trailers alone, _Age of Ultron_ looks so much more amazing than the first Avengers, which is kind of unbelievable considering the first one was SO FREAKING GOOD, BUT THIS JUST LOOKS ALL SORTS OF EPIC. MARVEL IS BETTER THAN EVERYONE. BYE. 
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes—
> 
> i. This is for tonystarkssnipples, who has been dropping in every once in a while to remind me that there are still those of you out there waiting for these chapters, and I appreciate every single word you left me, dear. Thank you for giving me the push to keep coming back to this.

Tony goes upstairs after spending a couple hours with his mom and aunt.  Upstairs, Grace is still asleep, though Tony hadn’t really expected her to be awake much earlier than noon.  It’s only ten, but he’s bored, so he crawls onto the bed, inhales deeply, and then flops down on top of her, letting out a loud laugh when Grace shrieks and kicks.  She gets him in the thigh, so he rolls off her and onto his back.

 

“Asslamp,” she tosses at him as she rolls over onto her side and punches him sharply in the side.

 

“Ah, fuck!” Tony exclaims, squirming away from her, but Grace grabs onto his hair and tugs him back, kicking the blankets off before she throws one of her legs in the air and hooks it around him, wrapping tightly around his middle so she can haul him back down.

 

She’s got Tony in some kind of wrestling move in seconds, one arm hooked around one of his shoulders while she gives him a noogie with the other hand.  Grace lets out a war cry as Tony giggles, wriggling desperately as he tries to escape.  He finally gets purchase on the bed and bucks upward, dislodging her leg, and then it’s just a matter of twisting, and he’s out, pinning Grace to the bed.

 

“I will fuck you up,” he threatens, so Grace sticks her tongue out.  Tony releases her, jumping off the bed before she can trap him again, and he heads over to his dresser, talking as he goes, “We should do something today.”

 

“What’s something?” Grace asks, grinning when Tony makes a face at her, “Not yoga, that shit isn’t natural.  Something more my speed, something— _oh_.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Laser tag.”

 

Tony turns fully, this wicked grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.  “You’re a genius.”

 

“The cool kind, yeah,” Grace says before she leaps off the bed and heads for the bathroom.  She barely closes the door, but Tony doesn’t notice until the shower is on, and she’s already inside.  He heads in after he’s picked out his clothes, and Grace makes an obnoxious noise when he starts peeing.  “Really?  While I’m in here?”

 

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” Tony says, “It’s actually nice out.  We should walk through downtown for a little bit.”

 

“Dude.”  Tony looks over as the door to the shower slides open, and Grace’s head pops out.  Tony flushes and laughs when her gaze darts down to his crotch, which is covered.

 

“Ha,” he teases.

 

“I have a week ahead of me,” she says before she looks back up at his face, “Tattoos.”

 

“I don’t have any,” Tony says.

 

“That’s—wow, okay, so I never expected that answer.  Wanna get one?”

 

“Do you have any?”

 

“A couple, yeah.  We’ll play show and tell sometime.  Come on, it’ll be awesome.”

 

Tony considers it for a moment, and then nods.  “Yeah, okay,” he says, “As long as they’re not matching.”

 

“Don’t be a lame ass,” Grace says before she disappears again.

 

Tony brushes his teeth and then retreats back to his room, texting Steve, _I think I’m gonna get a tattoo._

He changes his briefs, pulls on a pair of tight jeans, and is halfway into his vneck when Steve finally responds, _Okay.  What of?_

_I’m not sure,_ Tony types back, _Are you okay?_

Tony calls him without responding, and Steve doesn’t answer.  He calls him again, and then again until he finally picks up.  “What?” Steve asks hoarsely.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s—nothing.  It’s just—Leah.”

 

“What about her?  Is she okay?” Tony asks frantically.

 

“She’s not, and I’m not, and I can’t—I can’t see you this week.  I can’t stop, Tony.  I’m going out of my fucking mind.  I want to fucking die.  My veins are on fire.”

 

“You used again,” Tony says, understanding, “Steve, you’re—okay.”  He takes a deep, steadying breath before he continues, “Can I help?”

 

“I get it, Tony.  You can’t be part of this.  It isn’t healthy.  You’re doing so good, and I’m just—I’m gonna fuck it up.  I’ll only end up hurting you.”

 

“Steve—”

 

“We just need to take this week apart.  I’ll be okay when we get back to school.  I promise.”

 

“Steve—”

 

“Do you know what you’re getting?”  Tony has no idea what he’s talking about, and Steve doesn’t give him time to sit in silence for long.  “For your tattoo,” he clarifies, “Do you know what you’re getting?”

 

“No,” Tony says hollowly.

 

“Can I design something?  If you don’t like it, you don’t have to get it, but it would help keep my hands busy, keep my mind off things.”

 

“Absolutely,” Tony says quickly, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”  He looks over as the bathroom door creaks, and Grace pauses on the threshold, wet hair tied up in a bun and a towel wrapped around her.  She signs, and it almost breaks Tony.  He signs in return—yes, he’s okay—and then says to Steve, “I’m so sorry, my love.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve sighs, “It’s not your fault.”

 

“I introduced you to this life.”

 

“And I’ll see my way out of it,” Steve says, “I’m gonna be okay.  Leah’s gonna be okay.  My mom is going to take care of us.”

  
“Call me if you need anything, okay?  Anything.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly, “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

Tony lets the dead air hang there until Steve hangs up, and then he sighs and does the same, putting his phone down.  “I just—” he says, but it falls empty.

 

“Tony,” Grace sighs, coming over and stepping in close.  She hugs him tightly, and though she’s getting his clothes wet, he wraps his arms around her and lowers his temple to her shoulder.  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

 

“You smell good,” Tony says, and she laughs.

 

She steps away, winks and blows a kiss, and then she heads over to her suitcase.  Tony changes his shirt, pulls on a light blue vneck that’ll bring out his eyes, and then he tugs on a darker blue plaid shirt over that because he misses Steve.  When he turns, Grace’s hair is wrapped in her towel, and she’s just tugging on a pair of panties.  He admires the curves of her body as she gives her hips a little wiggle and then reaches down for a bra.  She turns as she’s clipping it on and grins at him.

 

“Stop it,” she says.

 

“Not a chance,” Tony responds, “The human body is endlessly fascinating to me.  Eye spy a tattoo.”

 

“Cheater!” Grace shrieks, and then Tony’s being attacked.  He ends up winning when she gets him on the ground, and he flips her legs backward, throwing her into plow, and she just whines and tips over.  Eventually, they stop fucking around and finish getting ready.

 

Grace pulls on a pair of tighter than Tony’s jeans, a loose, flowing grey top that has the three variations of their, there, they’re in black lettering, and an olive green, lightweight jacket that goes under her black leather jacket.  She tugs on a pair of boots as Tony is getting into his Converse, and then they’re both fighting over the mirror as they mess with their hair.

 

Eventually, Grace makes Tony kneel, and she does his hair for him, styling it until it’s wild and out of his face, and he gives her a smacking kiss on the shoulder when he sees it.  She cuffs the back of his head, so he yanks on her hair, but Grace just drops to her knees, so Tony laughs and starts braiding hers.  He twists the front off to the side before leading it into a fishtail, and when he’s finished, Grace gapes at him.  “You’re definitely gay,” she says, and Tony takes offense to that, so Grace jumps on him as he’s leaving, and he runs out of his room carrying her.

 

He drops her at the stairs, and they head down, chattering incessantly until they end up in the kitchen, and then Grace takes a seat at the island while Tony finds something quick for them to eat before they head out.

 

Laser tag turns out to be _the best_ idea Grace has ever had.  Her and Tony split up, their sole targets each other until they finally find one another, and it turns into a game of chase, Tony vaulting over things while Grace dodges children, and they cause so much havoc that they end up out on the street, the door slamming behind them.

 

Tony is laughing so hard, he might start crying, and Grace actually has to sit down, her sides hurt so much.  When they finally calm down, Tony pulls Grace to her feet, and they head off down the street, walking until Grace gives Tony shit for pointing out Jaho, “a stupid fucking hipster coffee corporation for idiots,” as Grace puts it.

 

And then Tony orders her drink for her, and she takes everything back.

 

They don’t end up getting tattoos, though Steve never ends up sending Tony anything, and he doesn’t think to worry about that until dusk is approaching, and Tony’s whining about food, so they head back for the car—Tony kicks into a handstand while they’re waiting for the light to change so they can cross, and Grace retaliates by sticking her arms in the air, saying she’s doing a handstand upside down, and Tony laughs so hard, he almost falls on his face—grateful to be inside its warmth as the fading light is accompanied by a gathering wind.

 

“It’s supposed to storm tonight and tomorrow,” Grace says once they’re on the road, reading from a weather app, “Got any plans?”

 

“Watch a movie with someone hot,” Tony suggests.

 

“Boy or girl?”

 

“Thought you were doing men for now.”

 

“Aaron Taylor Johnson,” Grace says, and Tony groans.

 

“The things I’d do, Grace, the _things_.”

 

“Take it up the bum?” Grace says, and Tony looks over at her.  “You’re such an ass man.  You actually stared at my ass today.”

 

“It’s a nice ass,” Tony says evenly.

 

“Do you bottom?”

 

“I might.”

 

“Come on,” Grace says, putting down her phone, “Now I’m really curious.  I don’t even know what your boyfriend looks like, _actually_.  Give me your phone, and don’t tell me yet.  I want to prepare myself.”

 

Tony laughs, but digs out his phone and hands it over.  Grace cracks his code so easily, he feels like he should be ashamed, but he just laughs and shakes his head.  “Shit,” she says, and turns the phone toward him.

 

“Oh, that’s—huh,” Tony says, looking at the picture she’s pulled up.

 

“What?” Grace asks, turning the phone back to her.

 

“That’s Johnny,” Tony says.

 

Grace quirks an eyebrow at him.  “I thought your boyfriend’s name was Steve,” she says.

 

“It is.  I didn’t know I still had those on there.”

  
“You looked happy,” Grace murmurs as she flicks through the photos, “Not that you don’t now.  In fact—yeah, that’s—that’s what you call ecstasy, and not the drug.”

 

She shows Tony another picture, one of him and Steve, curled up in bed, laughing so hard, he can remember the ache in his ribs when they’d finally calmed down.  He doesn’t remember Steve taking the picture, but he’s got this soft, knowing grin as he hides his face in Tony’s hair that lets him know he probably hadn’t meant to capture this moment in particular, but Tony had probably been making a scene, and then Steve had probably seen how utterly adorable they looked and didn’t delete the picture.

 

“Yeah, that’s him,” Tony says fondly, “He’s a cutie.”

 

“With those shoulders, he definitely tops,” Grace says as she keeps going through, “Okay.  You can tell me now.”

 

“I bottom.”

 

“Score,” Grace says, fist pumping her small victory.  When she’s done, she shuts off his phone, drops it into the center console, and says, “Come on, put on some tunes.”  And that’s how they end up jamming for the ride home.

 

——

 

It becomes too much.

 

Steve feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin, feels like he might drag his fingers across his body until his skin is raw and bleeding, and so he forces himself out of bed, shivering and fucking _cold_ , and he feels like he might pass out, but he pushes himself onward until he’s somehow made it downstairs, and he slumps against the doorway to the living room.

 

Joe is settled into the sofa with the TV on, though he’s reading the paper, and Sara is at the desk, sorting through their bills.  Joe looks up when he hears Steve, and he immediately drops his paper and jumps to his feet, hurrying over.

 

“Come on,” he says, wrapping an arm around Steve, holding his elbow with the other, “Easy now.”  He helps Steve over to the sofa, where he collapses, closing his eyes as the room spins around him.  “Sara,” Joe sighs as he feels Steve’s forehead, “He’s really warm.”

 

“I don’t know what she gave him,” Sara sighs as she walks by, heading for the kitchen.  When she returns, she’s holding a small med kit, and Joe pulls Steve into a sitting position before his mother starts looking him over.

 

When she’s finished, she sits on the coffee table and frowns at him.  “Whatever it was, it’s just taking a while for you to come down,” she says sadly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Sara says, looking away as she starts packing up her kit again.

 

“It is,” Steve mumbles, head dropping back as tears well in his eyes, pricking hotly until he feels like he might burst.

 

“Steve,” Sara says.

 

“I went in there looking for trouble.  My intention was to do _something_.  I didn’t know what, just that I needed something.”

 

There’s silence for a long moment before his father finally says, “If you’re going to influence her negatively, I'll—we can’t have this.”

 

“Joe,” Sara says sharply as Steve lifts his head, looking at his father.

 

“You’ll what?” he says, “Kick me out?  And what will you do with Leah—just keep letting this go on?”

 

“We’re handling it,” Joe says, “But she doesn’t need any more of this shit in her life.”

 

“Sorry to be a bother,” Steve says, pushing to his feet.

 

“Steve—” his father tries.

 

“No,” Steve says, stepping around him, “I’m going through something—something very similar to what Leah’s going through, and you’re handling both situations horribly.  You’re babying me and ignoring her.  What you need to do is get her help and let me detox here.  I’m okay, I’ll get through this, but she won’t.  Leah will be dead before either of you do something about it.”

 

“Steve!” Sara yells as he heads for the door, “Where do you think you’re going?”

 

“Anywhere that isn’t here,” he mutters before he heads for the stairs.

 

It takes him a while, but he makes it into his shower eventually, and when he finally gets under the hot water, he groans and leans into it, eyes closing.  It feels good, the steady stream of water thundering around him, shutting out everything but this second.

 

He inhales slowly, focuses on the way it travels through his body, and then he lets it out, this careful exhalation that makes him ache a little.  He thinks, unbidden, about the first time Tony had ever showered here, beaten by the world he’d lost himself in, and he starts crying without meaning to.  He doesn’t know what he’s doing, to himself and to Tony, and he hates himself for it.

 

“Stop,” he forces out, his jaw tightening, “Stop.”  He finds control, evens out his breaths until he feels calm again, and then he starts cleaning up his mess.

 

When he gets out of the shower, Steve feels better than he has in a long time.

 

He heads into his room scrubbing a towel through his hair, and he gets dressed slowly until he’s wearing jeans, Converse, a grey thermal, and a dark green sweatshirt.  He grabs his cargo jacket on his way out, a black beanie, and his phone, and then he’s making a beeline for the door.  He stops by the living room only to ask if he can borrow the car, and Sara just sighs and makes him promise to be careful.

 

Steve starts driving with no idea where he’s going, just that he needs to not necessarily get away, but be away.  He drives as the sun gets higher and higher and then starts to come down again, and then he stops.

 

He laughs.

 

Like a jerk reaction, he tugs his phone out of his pocket after he’s parked, and he texts Tony, _did you get a tattoo today?_

By the time he gets a response, he’s already inside the shop and looking around curiously.  _No, why?_

_I started driving, and ended up in a tattoo shop._

_Are you getting one?_ This response is much quicker, and Steve nods as he reads the text.

 

 _I think_ , he types back before he puts away his phone and heads for the counter.

 

“Hey,” the girl at the desk says cheerily as he approaches, smiling brightly, “What’s your poison?”

 

He knows it’s just an expression, but he feels like he’s shaking a little of the weight off his shoulders when he says, “Running away.  Do you do watercolor tattoos here?”

 

“Funnily enough, we do.  Lookin’ for something specific?  Wade!”

 

“Not specific, no,” Steve says as a door opens somewhere, and then a heavily tattooed and scarred man appears somewhere near his elbow, and Steve jumps, looking over at him.  He’s bald, but incredibly handsome, with sharp eyes and an even sharper grin.

 

“Shoulders here is looking for watercolor,” the girl says.

 

The man sizes him up, and then asks, “Got any ideas?”

 

“I—I use charcoals.  I never really know what I’m going to do before I start.”

 

“Interested in being someone’s canvas?” Wade asks, understanding.

 

Steve nods quickly.  “Yes,” he says, and he feels a quick thrum of energy spike through him.  He’s really doing this.

 

“Am I free?” he asks the girl.

 

“As a whistle,” she says, going back to her own sketch, “Have fun, lovers.”

 

“Name’s Wade,” the man says as he leads Steve back the way he’d come.

 

“Steve,” he says, “Do you do watercolor often?”

 

“As often as I can,” Wade says before he lifts his shirt, revealing a huge, growing tree, its roots disappearing beneath the waist of his jeans, branches reaching up across his back, blending in with other various tattoos.  There are beautiful scrawls of different colors whispering out of the trunk and curling around the branches, and Steve frowns because his skin is so badly scarred beneath it that he can tell he hadn’t needed to add much depth to the wood of the tree.

 

“Wow,” Steve breathes, “That’s beautiful.”

 

“Thank you,” Wade says softly, letting his shirt drop back down, “Got any tattoos yourself?”

 

“First one, actually,” Steve admits, and then, for no reason at all, “I’m trying to put something behind me.”

 

Wade opens a door and heads in.  Steve follows him, sitting when Wade motions toward a chair.  “Where are we thinking?” he asks, wandering around the room while he gets everything ready.

 

Steve’s quiet for a moment, contemplating, before he says, “How much does the spine hurt?”

 

Wade flashes a grin that’s so feral, it puts Tony’s to shame, and Steve laughs quietly.  “Okay,” he says, and then he starts peeling off his layers.  When he’s down to skin, he puts his back to the floor length mirror and studies himself for a few long moments until Wade appears at his shoulder, and he makes a sweeping motion with one hand.

 

Wade traces the motion, fingers flitting lightly against his skin, brushing over the part where his neck curves into his shoulder on the left, this tiny little thing before his fingers spread, winding across his spine and coming around to his right ribs.  When Steve nods, Wade says, “Shit’ll hurt, but it’s gonna be fun.  Depending on time—” he pauses, though his lips keep moving, and Steve waits for the price, “$300, probably.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, and he doesn’t know where he thinks he’s suddenly got $300 to drop on a tattoo he’d never planned to get, but something is tugging sharply at his gut, telling him he needs this, he’s going to be okay, and this will see him through.

 

It does.

 

He wants to say he doesn’t know what it is, but he does.  It’s Wade asking him what he’s running from, hiding from the truth himself until Wade tells him his scars are everywhere, that he’s been fighting cancer his entire life, and then Steve deflates, exhaling every bit of grief that’s eating away at him.  When Wade’s needle dances over his spine, he can’t help the tears that come, and Wade gives him a break after, handing him a bottle of water while he stretches.

 

It takes almost four hours.  Steve tips him something absurd because he can’t breathe when he looks in the mirror to see this tangled mess of blues, greens, orange and red, this little burst of purple, and a small swell of black, and it’s so beautiful, it hurts when he finally can breathe again.

 

“Yeah?” Wade says when he’s finished.

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, “Thank you.”

 

“Healing’s my art,” Wade says, and then he’s seeing Steve out, and when he gets back in his car, dumping his jacket and sweatshirt onto the passenger seat because he doesn’t want to put too much material against his covered tattoo, he just holds onto the steering wheel and breathes.

 

His phone starts ringing just after he’s started the ignition, and he answers it, tucking it between chin and shoulder as he pulls out of his spot.  “Hey mom,” he says softly.

 

“Are you coming home?” she asks, and he can hear her worry.

 

“I’m on my way,” he says, “I’m okay.”

 

“Where did you go?”

 

“Uh—” Steve says, and he’s not sure how to explain it, so he just says it flat out, “I got a tattoo.”

 

“Oh my god,” Sara says, but she sounds relieved, “Jesus, that’s—that’s absolutely not what I was expecting.”

 

“But it’s better?” Steve says hopefully.

 

“Sure, we’ll go with that.  Just come home, sweetie.”

 

“I’m on my way, mom.”

 

And he thinks he might be.

 

——

 

When they finally get back, Tony and Grace are starving, and so they seek out Maria and Ellie, and, between the four of them, something wonderful happens.  By the time they’ve finally sat to eat, Howard is home, and he’s in a pleasant mood, so they all eat together, their conversation easy, though careful.

 

Tony feels like something might be happening between his parents, something permanent, and it keeps him on edge, tightens a little, tiny space in his chest that isn’t enough to hurt, but every time he looks at Maria, it gets a little harder to breathe.

 

They go upstairs after—after Tony’s pulled Maria aside, and she already knows where his heart is, and she assuages his fears; she’s okay, but something is happening, and she’s not quite sure what it is yet.  Grace can tell he’s feeling uneasy, though, and so when she follows him into his room, Tony turns and asks, “You know you have your own room, right?”

 

But she knows, and she says, “Yeah, but—” she shrugs, “I need you as much as you need me right now.”  Tony offers her a crooked smile, and she allows the moment of quiet for only the briefest of seconds before she gives him a shove and jumps onto his bed.  “Come on, let’s watch something."

 

Tony reaches for one of his earphones, taps in, and says, “Jarvis, something not loud.”

 

“Which quiet category, sir?” Jarvis asks, “Sad or slow?”

 

“Slow,” Tony says, and then Grace is asking who the hell he’s talking to, and he ends up explaining Jarvis and getting them acquainted for the next half hour before they’re finally settling into their movie.

 

It takes approximately forty minutes for Grace to fall asleep, head tucked under Tony’s chin, legs tangled with his, and he’s not far behind her, trying to stay awake until he’s just succumbing.

 

It’s well past two in the morning when he jerks awake, shaken out of his slumber by a sharp tightness in his chest.  He can breathe, but it hurts every time his chest contracts, and he needs to be free of his bed, of the sheets, of being so close to everything.

 

Tony forces himself out of bed, thuds against his nightstand and groans as the corner digs sharply into his hip.  “Tony?” his name trips out into the dark as he shoves away from the nightstand and staggers toward his bathroom.

 

He collapses onto the cold tiles just over the threshold, knees giving out under him, and he hears the quick shuffling of sheets a second before Grace’s feet are slapping against the floor as she runs toward him.

 

And somehow, she knows.

 

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, pulling him off his knees and into her arms, curling around him in a way that leaves him open, but grounds him down toward her.  “It’s okay.”

 

“Grace,” he gasps out.

 

“Do you remember when you were seven?”

 

He closes his eyes.

 

That was the year his father had first laid hands on him, the year his congenital heart defect had started effecting his breathing, the year his first asthma attack had happened, the year he’d first gone into full-blown panic, nails scraping at his chest as he tried desperately to breathe, as his heart had beat a violent rhythm out, and Grace had sprinted across the schoolyard, from where her group of kindergarten friends were pointing at him, grabbed onto him and hauled them down into the sandbox, tangled their limbs together and held onto him until help finally arrived, but by then, she had already managed to calm him down.

 

He can hear the thrum of her humming voice whispering through him, a slow, steady rhythm meant to match his heartbeat, and he listens to her sing, lets it fill him until he’s sinking against her.

 

“Tony,” Grace sighs, leaning their temples together, “I don’t want to go home.”

 

“Me either,” Tony whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is shorter than they usually are, and I tried to make it longer, but so much time has passed, I’d rather just give you what I already have written. Life is hectic right now. I’m making some big changes in my professional and personal life, so things are just constantly moving. I’m really trying to make more time for my writing, though, because it’s the one thing in my life that I love more than anything, and I can’t let it be taken away from me again.
> 
> In other news, I got my second tattoo today! Go check it out over at my tumblr, [sleeponrooftops](http://sleeponrooftops.tumblr.com/tagged/tattoo). It’s just about the coolest thing ever, and I’m really, really excited.
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


End file.
